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HELLENIC 
CIVILIZATION 


4 








HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


An Historical Survey 


BY MAURICE CROISET 


Administrator of the College of France 


TRANSLATED BY PAUL B. THOMAS 
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
EDWARD DELAVAN PERRY 


New York ALFRED: A+: KNOPF 




















er COPYRIGHT, 1925, BY ALFRED 





















“MANUFACTURED IN THE U 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION 
PART I—ORIGINS AND BEGINNINGS 
CHAPTER I Origin anp Earty Procress or HEL- 


LENIC CIVILIZATION 
CHAPTER II Tue RE ticion oF THE GREEKS 
CHAPTER III Tue Testimony or Eric Portry 
CHAPTER IV Intenuectuat anp Morat Deve.or- 


MENT IN THE SEVENTH AND SIXTH 
CENTURIES BEFORE CHRIST 


PART II—THE FIFTH CENTURY 
CHAPTER JI = Pourticayt Lire In THE FirtH CEN- 


TURY 


CHAPTER II Curr anv THE Great RELIGIOUS 
MANIFESTATIONS IN THE FIFTH 


CENTURY 
CHAPTER III Society anp Customs 
CHAPTER IV Invetzectuat Activiry anp Works 
oF ART 
PART III—THE FOURTH CENTURY 
CHAPTER I Pourrtics, Bustness, Customs 
CHAPTER II Oratory, pape History 


vii 


03 


52 


77 


93 
ris 


123 


159 
167 


vi CONTENTS 
CHAPTER III Puitosopuy anp ScIENcE 178 


CHAPTER IV ‘Tue Arts 193 


PART IV—THE LAST PERIODS OF HELLENIC 


CIVILIZATION 
CHAPTER I Tue Hewrenistic Krnepoms 203 
CHAPTER II Hexzenistic Lrrerature 210 
CHAPTER III Puttosopuy ann Science 223 
CHAPTER IV Greek Civinization UNDER THE 

EMPIRE 242 
CHAPTER V_ Science anp PuILosopHy 254 
CHAPTER VI Tue Enp or HE.LLENIsM 273 


CHAPTER VII Conc.uusion 293 


INTRODUCTION 


by 
Edward Delavan Perry 


An important indication both of the spread of interest 
in the civilization of Ancient Greece as a whole and of 
the gradual change in the points of view from which it is 
studied may be found in the publication, during recent 
years, of many works, whether as parts of more or less 
extensive series or as single issues, presenting one or more 
aspects of that marvelous achievement of human genius. 
The materials for our knowledge and comprehension of 
that period of the world’s history are rapidly increasing. 
New evidence—archeological, inscriptional, linguistic, 
literary—is constantly being added, often modifying and 
sometimes completely overthrowing conceptions hitherto 
fondly held. Perhaps about no people of history have 
sweeping generalizations been so readily made and so 
slavishly adopted as about the Greeks of antiquity. 

To make the more significant portions of such newly 
acquired information accessible to that part of the “read- 
ing public” which cares for these things, but has neither 
time nor inclination to enter upon the exacting yet nec- 
essary professional study in these fields, is to perform a 
most useful service. Certainly not less important is the 
presentation, in clear, precise, and agreeable form, of the 
most characteristic features of the Greek civilization, of 
the main lines of its development through the centuries 
that lie more or less open to our observation, and the 

vii 


Vili INTRODUCTION 


interpretation to modern minds of ideas and customs in 
many respects so different from our own, yet forming so 
largely the basis on which our own civilization rests. 
With every year it becomes more evident that the 
Greeks of historical times were a people (or rather a 
group of peoples) of extraordinary diversity of origin, 
religious belief and practice, and customs, never for long 
held together closely in any political union, constantly 
engaging in war with each other, living under many dif- 
ferent forms of political organization which sometimes 
changed with great rapidity, restless, only too often fickle 
and treacherous, in some respects—particularly in reli- 
gious ritual—deeply conservative, in others constantly 
eager for some new thing, commercially enterprising, 
highly emotional yet endowed with a sense of proportion 
which generally saved them from extravagance of taste 
though less often from extravagance of conduct; in short, 
a people whom it would be excessively difficult to describe 
adequately in any brief formulas. In dealing with such 
a subject the danger of failing to see the trees of which 
the wood is made up is not less that that of failing to 
see the wood for the trees. And not only were there 
striking differences of character, customs, political and 
social organization, among Greek communities at any; 
given period, but almost any one community varied in 
such respects from one age to another; while of course the 
rate of change would itself show many variations. The 
evidence at our disposal for acquainting ourselves with 
this ancient Greek civilization is singularly uneven for 
different regions and periods. For example, the huge 
losses sustained by the mass of Greek literature in the 
process of transmission from one generation to another 
have left great gaps in the writings of some of the most 
famous and important among Greek historians, whose 


INTRODUCTION ix 


accounts at first hand we should so highly prize and so 
gladly utilize. It happens that for Athens we are vastly 
better informed than for any other Greek state, and 
vastly better today than thirty-five years ago, owing to 
the discovery, in 1891, of a manuscript of Aristotle’s 
Constitution of Athens—the only one remaining of more 
than one hundred and fifty similar descriptions of Greek! 
political organizations. 

Very few scholars unite with the great learning by 
which the almost endless details are mastered that pro- 
found comprehension of the relation of parts to the 
whole which alone makes possible an accurate and ade- 
quate generalization. Still fewer add to these the power 
of concise, clear, and interesting description and exposi- 
tion. The primacy of the French in these respects will 
hardly be seriously questioned even by the most patriotic 
scholars of other countries—just as there are many 
points in which the French language, with its highly 
developed and harmonious yet forcible prose style, its 
delicate and unfailing sense of proportion, its avoidance 
of involved constructions and exaggerations of every 
kind, is peculiarly well adapted to the exposition of 
Greek themes. ‘This happy combination is to be seen, for 
example, in the famous work of Fustel de Coulanges, 
La cité antique, originally published in 1864, which after 
sixty years still remains a standard and invaluable help 
and guide. In this little book the paramount importance 
of a thorough study of ancient religion for the compre- 
hension of the ancient state was—perhaps for the first 
time—strongly emphasized. 

A similar insistence upon the necessity of understand- 
ing ancient religion if we would understand ancient civi- 
lization is a marked feature of the admirable little book, 
a model of condensed, clear, and accurate statement, 


x INTRODUCTION 


which M. Maurice Croiset of the Collége de France has 
published in the Collection Payot under the title La 
Cicilisatiom hellénique. Not less characteristic of the 
book is the adherence to the historical method of presen- 
tation, in which the gradual development of the more 
important features of Greek civilization is traced. 
While many valuable publications in the field of classical, 
particularly of Greek, investigation have given him a 
very high place among scholars, he is best known outside 
of France as the collaborator with M. Alfred Croiset 
—par nobile fratrum—in the monumental Histoire de la 
littérature grecque. Alfred Croiset is no longer living; 
but Maurice, in spite of his seventy-eight years, is still 
pursuing his life-work. 

Mr. Thomas has done competently a most useful task 
in making the aperew accessible, in an excellent transla- 
tion, to readers of English to whom French is still a 
strange tongue. 


PART I 


ORIGINS AND BEGINNINGS 





CHAPTER I 


ORIGIN AND EARLY PROGRESS OF 
HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Antecedents. Minoan and Mycenaean Civilizations.— 
Hellenic civilization, properly so called, begins for us 
about the eighth century s.c. But this apparent be- 
ginning was in reality only a continuation, or rather, a 
revival, 

Archeological discoveries, especially in the last thirty 
years, have in fact shown us that a civilization truly 
worthy of the name had developed in the islands of the 
féigean Sea, later in Crete, and finally in certain parts of 
the Greek mainland, during the second millenium B.c., 
and that it was particularly brilliant toward the middle 
of that period. ‘The monuments of Crete—notably the 
palaces of Cnossus, Phestus, and Hagia Triada—altho 
now reduced to ruins, bear irrefutable witness to it. 
Moreover, the character of the monuments seems to re- 
veal an epoch of comparative peace, favorable to the 
advancement of the arts, to the increase of wealth, and 
to a quiet and well-organized life. The more or less 
legendary name of King Minos, represented as a peace- 
maker and law-giver inspired by the gods, may well remain 
associated with that succession of remote centuries, of 
which we know scarcely anything save what is attested 
by these monuments and their ornamentation. 

Other no less imposing ruins, at Mycene, at Tiryns, 
at Orchomenus, and at other places, give evidence that 

3 


4 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


this civilization had penetrated to many points on the 
Greek mainland. They lead us to believe that for many 
centuries powerful chiefs and warriors lived there. ‘These 
cities are in reality fortresses. ‘They seem to preserve 
the memory of a sort of military feudalism. Protected 
by formidable ramparts, and located along the natural 
trade-routes, they had to be constructed so as at once to 
guard them and to exploit them. The riches which they 
contained were well defended, because it was felt, appar- 
ently, that they were in danger. Evidently redoubtable 
princes lived behind these massive walls; for them they 
were citadels, and for their subjects they were places of 
refuge in case of need. And yet in this state of hostile de- 
fiance among neighbors art was relished and cultivated. 
Today, beneath the crumbled palaces, the spade of the ex- 
cavator discovers relics of brilliant decorations, fragments 
of columns, painted friezes, and sculptures. In imagina- 
tion, guided by the remains unearthed, one may restore 
great banquet halls, royal apartments, and courts of regal 
splendor. Furthermore, imposing sepulchers bear wit- 
ness to the pride of princes who sought, even in death, to 
assert their haughty superiority. This civilization may 
be called Mycenexan, since the ruins of Mycene today 
represent to us the highest development of culture in that 
period. 

Period of Invasions and Migrations.—On the other 
hand, the epic poets tell us of a confederation of kings 
called Acheans; and the historians report that toward 
the end of the second millennium sz. c. great movements of 
populations took place in Greece and completely over- 
turned the previous civilization. They refer especially 
to a conquest of the Peloponnesus by Dorian tribes de- 
scending from the region of the Pindus. It is probable 


that there was in fact a long series of migrations extend- — 


a 


ORIGIN AND EARLY PROGRESS 5 


ing over a period of several centuries—a period of in- 
cessant conflicts, of violent occupations leading to the 
forcible expulsion of ancient royal families and of a part 
of their subjects, and to the subjugation of others, 
sometimes even to the displacement of entire populations, 
which had to go forth in search of new settlements. 
This, we are told, was the time of the establishment of 
numerous Greek tribes in Asia Minor, along the eastern 
coast of the A’gean Sea. Gathering there in units, ac- 
cording to ties of kinship, they gradually formed from 
north to south along this Asiatic coast the groups called 
Molians, Ionians, and Dorians, while on the Greek main- 
land were founded those states whose later glory now 
fills the pages of history. These several centuries of 
continuous conflict and disturbance might well be com- 
pared to a sort of Middle Age, in which the previous 
civilization declined, but from which, toward the eighth 
century B.c., the Greece of history emerged. 

Further on, in speaking of epic poetry, we shall see 
what progress the Greeks of Asia, the Aolians and es- 
pecially the Ionians, made at that time in advance of 
their brothers in Greece proper. For in leaving their 
native soil these vigorous exiles, who refused to submit 
to the law of their conquerors, carried precious traditions 
away with them. It was natural that civilization, tem- 
porarily endangered, revived first among them. Hence 
it was in their cities—at Ephesus, at Smyrna, at Miletus, 
at Colophon, in the islands of Chios and Lesbos—that 
the arts, poetry, a certain elegance of life, a sense of 
beauty, once more began to manifest themselves; and 
from there this brilliant culture gradually extended its 
beneficent influence to the Greek mainland. But the 
Greek cities of Asia were unfortunate enough to witness 
the rise of two dangerously powerful empires near at 


6 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


hand: first that of the Lydians, later that of the Persians. 
Thus it is not in this Asiatic Greece, fascinating as it 
is, that we can best study the formation of the Hellenic 
states; let us rather devote our attention to those which 
survived and endured—the celebrated states of Greece 
proper. 

Formation of the Hellenic States——The term “states,” 
of which one is obliged to make use, is poorly suited, as 
a matter of fact, to those first attempts at political 
formation. Rather were they groups of clans or tribes, 
whose character was in most cases heterogeneous; but 
usually it came about that one group predominated over 
the others and thus gave its name to the region occupied. 
However, from the time indicated above, a definite ten- 
dency toward organization is to be observed in the 
majority of these communities. 

At the time of the conquests and migrations just re- 
ferred to, it is evident that the peoples who went forth in 
search of new settlements had to obey orders. But by no 
means were they mere roving hordes temporarily banded 
together; on the contrary, they represented a certain 
inherent system of orderly arrangement associated with 
them from time immemorial. They were composed of 
families, phratries, and tribes, each associated in a cult 
of its own and in the honor paid to a common ancestor, 
real or fictitious, whose name it bore; and from the mo- 
ment when they settled down to live anywhere, these 
traditional groupings constituted the framework of their 
normal social life. Each family, in the large sense of 
the word, had its chief, or, as the head of a family was 
called in the phrase of that time, its king. It had also 
its own land and its own jurisdiction; and it supplied 
all, or very nearly all, its own needs. These family 
kings were more or less subordinate to superior kings, 


ORIGIN AND EARLY PROGRESS 7 


richer and more powerful, whose council they formed; 
and the superior kings, in turn, were able to recognize 
at least in certain cases, and especially in time of war, a 
supreme king. Here, then, we find the rough outline of 
an organization at once aristocratic and monarchic, altho 
we should not, of course, conceive such a society as sub- 
ject to clearly defined hierarchical rules. 

The geographic conformation of Greece, naturally di- 
vided into cantons, lent itself poorly to the political fu- 
sion of these incipient states; moreover, it was not even 
favorable to a close rapprochement of their own com- 
ponent elements. The fact is that none of the groups 
thus outlined was ever sufficiently powerful, for any 
considerable length of time, to dominate all the others, 
or even to attempt to do so. Consequently, they re- 
mained separate and independent. Many of them never 
achieved any real unification; only a few were successful 
in so doing, and it is among these few that we may best 
study the formation of the state in the proper sense of the 
term. 

For the sake of simplicity, let us consider here only 
Sparta and Athens; and without entering into the details 
of their history—which the limits of this work do not 
permit—let us state the essential facts in a very few 
words. | 

Sparta, born of the Dorian conquest, had to organize 
its forces with a view to maintaining its domination over 
a conquered population. There, accordingly, the muili- 
tary spirit was from the very beginning, and always, 
associated with the oligarchical spirit. Not only did 
Sparta have to exclude from the government every ele- 
ment which did not belong to the conquering race, but 
it also felt the need of imposing upon itself a rigid dis- 
cipline capable of maintaining the closest coherence 


8 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


among its citizens. It wanted them all to be as much 
alike as possible. Thus it was led to assume the character 
of a sort of military camp, under the authority of its two 
kings, its Council of Elders, and later its ephors, with a 
rigorous code of laws resolutely hostile to every innova- 
tion and consequently to every form of individual liberty. 
Everything was subordinated to the public interest. The 
children were given a severe, almost cruel, training; the 
life of the citizen was subject to rules and restrictions of 
every kind. Accustomed to obedience from infancy, the 
Spartan was to have no other desires than those of mili- 
tary honor and patriotism. In this way Sparta suc- 
ceeded in developing among its people an extraordinary 
moral force, and this, together with its remarkable 
military efficiency, for a long time rendered it superior to 
the majority of the other Greek states. Consequently, 
it has left the world shining examples of those virtues 
which it practised. On the other hand, in voluntarily 
condemning itself to isolation and immobility, it lessened 
its own share in the general development of Greek civi- 
lization. 

The history of Athens is quite different. Whatever 
were the origins of the Athenian people, every marked evi- 
dence of an ethnic diversity in them was early effaced. 
The sense of racial unity made way for the sense of 
human and social equality. The little patriarchal king- 
doms were united in Athens, sooner than anywhere else, 
in an association at once religious and political, the center 
of which was the Acropolis, the principal seat of the cult 
of Athena. Ruled at first by kings, the city was after- 
wards governed by hereditary (later, by elected) magis- 
trates called archons, who were the leaders of a landed 
aristocracy. But the growing importance of the small 
landowners, favored by the nature of the country, the 


ORIGIN AND EARLY PROGRESS 9 


laborious energy of the peasants, and the demands of a 
rapidly increasing urban population, combined to develop 
a democratic spirit in the masses. There were conflicts, 
civil wars, and adjustments. At the beginning of the 
sixth century B.c. the laws of Solon, in abolishing the 
burdens of land servitude, marked an important step in 
the progress of the people. For a time they even estab- 
lished a certain social equilibrium. They did not, how- 
ever succeed in placing liberty on a solid foundation; it 
remained for the tyranny of Pisistratus and his sons to 
prepare the ground for that. By promoting agriculture 
and commerce, as also by encouraging intercourse with 
foreign countries, this tyranny awakened in the people 
a clearer consciousness of their power. The result was 
that in 510 3B. c. they drove out the tyrants, and three 
years later they laid the solid foundations of the democ- 
racy by the establishment of the constitution of Clisthenes 
(507 3. c.). In the first half of the fifth century this 
movement achieved its final consummation when, after the 
Persian Wars, the lower classes, inspired by victory and 
by the memory of their sacrifices, swept aside everything 
which still stood in the way of their ambitions. 

We shall observe this institution in operation in the 
following period. What it is necessary to emphasize here 
is the fact that Athens, from the end of the sixth century 
B. c., had created a form of political organization founded 
upon the equality of its citizens before the law. Few 
facts have been of greater importance than this in the 
general history of civilization. 

The City-state and the Citizens.—In almost every part 
of Greece, broadly speaking, there was formed what was 
called the “city”? (polis), and what we call the “state.” 
Of what, precisely, did it consist? This ‘“‘city-state” was 
a collectivity having a genuine moral unity and tending 


10 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


to establish an effective solidarity. All its members 
were bound together, not only by common interests, but 
also by clearly defined legal relations—relations based on 
rights and duties inscribed in a constitution. Neither 
these rights nor these duties were everywhere the same; but 
everywhere the citizen was one to whom the city-state at- 
tributed certain positive rights that were born with him, 
and, on the other hand, one whom it looked upon as 
bound to the performance of certain precise obligations 
in the common interest. ‘The most important of these 
rights and the foremost of these obligations was to par- 
ticipate personally in the government. In that respect 
there was an absolute distinction between the citizen and 
the foreigner, even in places where foreigners were 
favorably received, as at Athens; and the distinction was 
even more radical between the citizen and the slave, who 
had no rights at all. If man, as Aristotle was to say 
later on, can fully realize himself only in the highest of 
associations, which is the city-state, then the Greek citizen 
alone, as distinguished from the barbarian, was com- 
pletely a man. To the title of citizen, therefore, was 
attached a special dignity, and he who bore that title 
was proudly conscious of the fact. 

The Law.—From this conception of the city-state there 
naturally developed a corresponding conception of law. 
It was in the Greek city-state, indeed, that law was first 
conceived from the standpoint of the high moral signifi- 
cance which attaches to the word. Neither in theocracies, 
nor in despotic monarchies, nor among semi-civilized 
peoples, could there be law in the proper sense of the 
term. For theocracies knew only the commandments of 
God as expressed in the imperious dictates of a sacer- 
dotal body, or of a superior man, recognized as an inter- 
preter of the divine will; despotic monarchies had no 


ORIGIN AND EARLY PROGRESS 11 


rules other than the orders of the sovereign; semi- 
civilized peoples conformed to family customs and to the 
wishes of their tribal elders and chiefs. In the Greek 
city-state the law was essentially a product of the in- 
tellect, conceived with reference to the common interest. 
The period with which we are concerned witnessed the 
origin of the principal bodies of Greek law, some of them 
historic, others semi-legendary—those of Lycurgus, 
Charondas, Zaleucus, Draco, and Solon. These names, 
and the traditions to which they are related, teach us a 
unique fact: everywhere, at some time, the city-state felt 
the need of laying down certain general rules governing 
the relations of the citizens among themselves. Intended 
to repress acts of violence, to determine due reparations, 
and also to fix the obligations of every member of the 
community, these laws were adapted to the conditions 
and requirements of each individual state. Whether they 
are authorized by divine sanction, or whether they lack 
such sanction, in the last analysis they always rest upon 
the at least tacit accord of the citizens; they represent a 
common will, resulting from prevailing social conditions, of 
which they are the consecration. Moreover, they are im- 
posed less as a heritage of the past than as a guarantee of 
the future peace and stability of the city-state. From 
this conception sprang the feeling that, if the laws were in 
any way to be modified, it was to be done with prudent 
discretion—not for light and transient reasons, but only 
‘im order to adapt them to the changes which time nec- 
essarily brings about in every form of human society. 
Their real object was to establish the reign of justice— 
a concept of the first importance, which in Greece becomes 
more and more closely associated with that of law. For 
the Greeks, having no decalog, could seek the formula 
of justice only in their legislation. Essentially human, 


12 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


this justice written in their laws is derived in the end 
from the common agreement of those who are guided by 
a sense of moral righteousness. It is true, no doubt, that 
the gods also favor it, that they not only regard it with 
sympathetic eyes but to a certain extent are even guard- 
ians of it; but they are not called upon to formulate 
it thru the mouths of their priests. It is determined of 
itself by the conditions and requirements of the social 
life; 1t is regulated and clarified by every-day experience. 
Opposed incessantly by the passions, its very setbacks 
serve to show that it can not be dispensed with and help 
to emphasize the necessity of fortifying it. Defeated 
every day, it is nevertheless victorious in the long, con- 
tinous records of public life. 

Slavery.—With regard to one essential matter, how- 
ever, justice never succeeded in asserting itself. <A cry- 
ing injustice, slavery, was consecrated by custom from 
the earliest times. Sanctioned by all the Greek laws 
without exception, a universal institution everywhere else 
in the ancient world, its origin dated back to the oldest 
abuses of power, that is to say, to the earliest ages of 
mankind. For the honor of their civilization, so humane 
in other respects, it is to be regretted that the Greeks 
did not manage to repudiate a custom so outrageous to 
humanity. 

First Expansion of Hellenic Cwvilization.—Everything 
that has been said so far relates to the Greek peninsula, 
to the Agean islands, and to the Greek coast of Asia 
Minor. But after the eighth century s. c. Greece did not 
cease to expand beyond these limits. 

As soon as it had regained its internal equilibrium after 
the period of invasions and migrations, it had, for numer- 
ous reasons, to widen the sphere of its activities. The 
first needs of its nascent industry compelled it to seek in 





ORIGIN AND EARLY PROGRESS 13 


more or less distant places the materials it lacked— 
copper, silver, and iron—and consequently to export 
some of its own products in exchange. On the other 
hand, the spirit of adventure animated a considerable 
number of its inhabitants. At the same time its popu- 
lation was increasing, in many places, more rapidly than 
the means of subsistence. Finally, civil conflicts, of such 
frequent occurrence at that time, brought it about that 
large groups of conquered peoples were sometimes obliged 
to leave their native country. All this accounts for the 
colonizing movement which began in the second half of 
the eighth century 8. c., the way for it having no doubt 
already been prepared by earlier voyages and explora- 
tions. 

On the one side, toward the west, Corinth founds 
Corcyra. ‘Then Chalcidians, Corinthians, Megarians, 
Acheans, and Locrians establish themselves in Sicily 
and along the southern coast of Italy. One by one, cities 
spring up there and in turn send forth colonies of their 
own. On the other side, toward the east, Chalcis oc- 
cupies the promontories of Thrace and there founds a 
colony which receives from its mother-city the name of 
Chalcidice. Miletus secures a foothold on the Hellespont 
and along the Propontis thru the founding of Abydus, 
Lampsacus, and Cyzicus; and from there it gains Pontus, 
establishes a trading post at Sinope, and penetrates as 
far as the Phasis. Megara founds Chalcedon, Perinthus, 
and Byzantium, the mistress of the Bosporus. Athens, 
finally, establishes itself in the sixth century 3B. c. in the 
Chersonnesus of Thrace. 

Nothing gives a better idea of the exuberant vitality 
of Greece during this period than the intensity of this 
colonizing movement. Moreover, in thus spreading out 
she not only carried afar all the most vitalizing elements 


14 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


of her civilization, but at the same time she steadily main- 
tained her power at home; for these new cities remained in 
uninterrupted communication with the mother-cities which 
gave birth to them, piously conserving their spirit, their 
customs, and their traditional cults. Between them and 
the Greek mainland there was a steady commercial and 
intellectual intercourse. 

Thus Hellenic civilization was propagated; and the 
type of humanity which it realized became known far and 
wide, even among peoples still barbarous. Let us now 
seek to discern its more intimate elements and to assign to 
each of them its proper value, beginning with religion. 





CHAPTER II 


THE RELIGION OF THE GREEKS 


Importance of Religion in Hellenic Civilization.— 
Everybody knows what constant and profound influence 
religion exerted among the Greeks. We find it associated 
with almost every phase of their public and private life. 
Many important events of their history were either in- 
spired or sanctioned by it; many of their artistic 
creations were religious either in origin or in purpose. 
Even the great movements of Hellenic thought were 
closely bound up with the national religion, since nearly 
all of these movements were either impelled by it or, 
on the other hand, opposed and retarded by it. 


(1) BELIEFS 


Primitive Religions.—An analytical study of the his- 
torical religions of Greece, as well as the knowledge which 
we have today acquired concerning still earlier religions, 
enables us to recognize as the primitive basis of their be- 
liefs the deification of the phenomena of nature or of the 
unknown forces which were supposed to produce them. 
Since the life of man was essentially bound up with these 
phenomena, it was a question either of conjuring them 
when they were feared, or of befriending them or even con- 
straining them to appear if they were needed. Hence the 
more or less magic rites designed to avert evils and to 
multiply blessings. For a long time the popular imagi- 


15 


16 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


nation pictured these forces in vaguely defined forms, as 
so many spirits localized in the stars, in the phenomena 
of the air, in certain animals, in trees or plants, or even 
in inanimate objects such as water-courses, lakes, caverns, 
and rocks; and when they were pictured in any more 
concrete form, they were usually conceived as fantastic 
creatures, less human than monstrous. 

Anthropomorphism.—But at the beginning of the his- 
torical period these barbarous conceptions had already 
become only scattered survivals. The form of religious 
belief which predominated in Greece from that time on, 
and which imposed itself upon all the more cultivated 
minds, was that called anthropomorphism. This con- 
sisted essentially in ascribing to the gods the essential 
characteristics of human beings. 

Let us guard, however, against relying upon this 
definition to a greater extent than the facts allow. The 
anthropomorphism of the Greeks is known to us es- 
pecially thru their poetry, and thru the plastic arts, 
which are more or less dependent on it. But poetry, by 
its very nature, can not be regarded as an absolutely 
reliable interpreter of the conceptions of the great num- 
ber. Like the plastic arts, altho to a less extent, it is 
obliged to lend to the figures with which it deals a reality 
much more fixed in its forms than the oftentimes vague 
conception of simple believers would be likely to ascribe 
to them. In the Homeric poems we see immortal gods 
endowed with incomparable beauty, strength, and swift- 
ness. Among them are differences of sex, age, charac- 
ter, and attributes; and each of them has a name and a 
set of traits peculiar to himself. Altogether they form 
a family, or rather, if one takes into account also the 
minor deities (a veritable people which figures only in the 
background), a city-state. This people has a supreme 


THE RELIGION OF THE GREEKS 17 


king and is divided into tribes occupying, respectively, 
the sky, the earth, the sea, and the subterranean world, 
each of these domains having its own distinct ruler. In 
this divine world, which one may suppose to have sprung 
from diverse origins, poetry endeavors to create a cer- 
tain orderly system; and it succeeds, very largely, in the 
effort. Insofar as possible it arranges these gods in 
family lines, which it ingeniously joins together in more 
or less definite relationships. This is what we observe 
especially in the Theogony of Hesiod. A succession of 
generations unites the old gods with the new gods, who 
thereafter rule the world. In the center of the Olympus 
thus constituted stands forth the majestic figure of Zeus, 
sovereign of gods and men, and lord of the thunder, a 
weapon which renders him invincible and enables him to 
strike down all his enemies. A little below him are his 
two brothers, Poseidon, lord of the sea, and Hades, ruler 
of the dead, dreaded possessor of a dark subterranean 
empire. Close to Zeus sits Hera, his sister and his con- 
sort. The family group is completed by the children 
of Zeus: Hephestus, the divine smith; Apollo and Artemis, 
both children of Leto; Persephone, daughter of Demeter; 
Ares, the grim warrior; and finally, the young and agile 
Hermes, messenger of the gods. This mythology is in 
itself a masterpiece of organization and of beauty; it 
reveals a characteristic gift of idealization not found, in 
the same degree, in any other nation. But its very per- 
fection leads one to believe that it was, if not created, 
at least elaborated and completed by poets. In order to 
learn to what extent it represented common belief, there- 
fore, one would have to be able to examine the minds of 
the people of that time. To what extent did their ideas 
accord, in these descriptions and constructions, with the 
personal fabrications of their poets, with their free inven- 


18 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


tions? This is hard to say. Let us not forget, however, 
that the poets themselves were far from general agreement, 
and that the local legends varied infinitely. 

Religious Particularism.—Divine wills were everywhere 
conceived as of the same nature as human wills. Hence 
it was naturally admitted that since divine wills were in- 
spired, like human wills, by individual motives and senti- 
ments, the former might, also like the latter, be at variance. 
The very principle of polytheism wished it so; for if all 
the gods had had only one and the same will, there would 
have been only one and the same god. To attribute a 
distinct personality to each one of the gods, was to 
recognize implicitly that they could have different and 
even contrary desires. In fact, each of the Greek tribes 
had its recognized protectors in the divine world; and 
when they were associated in city-states, in confedera- 
tions, even in a nation, this diversity continued. Certain 
gods, no doubt, were recognized and even worshipped in 
almost all the Greek city-states; but by no means did 
they everywhere enjoy the same favor. Almost every 
town had its preferred god, whom it looked upon as its 
protector, charged with defending it either against its 
enemies or against the gods of its enemies. Even in the 
remote period of the Homeric poems the gods appear to 
us as divided between the nations at war; and this division 
is perpetuated in all Greek history. Athens is bound to 
Athena; Argos relies upon Hera; Sparta commends it- 
self especially to Apollo. And just as there are special 
gods for city-states, so too there are special gods for 
tribes, for families, and even for individuals. A Greek did 
not hesitate to invoke the protection of some one god in 
preference to another for an enterprise or for any project 
whatsoever, if he had any personal reason for counting 
upon that god’s favor. 


THE RELIGION OF THE GREEKS 19 


This, however, did not prevent some of the principal 
gods from early acquiring a national character; and this 
character became more and more perceptible with the 
progress of civilization. This is what happened espe- 
cially in the case of Zeus, by reason of his supreme rank. 
There was a general tendency to make him the god par 
excellence ; and this sentiment was naturally favored upon 
second thought. Never, however, did it become suffi- 
ciently strong to abolish the particularistic devotions of 
city-states and of individuals. To a Greek, moreover, 
Zeus himself did not represent an immutable will. Altho 
superior to the other gods, he did not differ from them in 
nature. The idea of natural laws, as we conceive them, 
was totally foreign to the masses; in that early period it 
existed only very vaguely, if at all, in but a few superior 
minds. According to the common belief, every occurrence, 
every phenomenon, was the result of a special determina- 
tion, which could always be suspended or modified. 

This religious particularism had its favorable and its 
unfavorable aspects. No doubt faith in the gods of the 
city-state strengthened patriotism; whereas piety, far 
from detaching the believer from terrestrial interests, at- 
tached him more firmly to those of the city-state; it ex- 
alted devotion to the commonwealth. On the other hand, 
it was sometimes a cause of intolerance; for to refuse to 
pay homage to the gods of the country was tantamount 
to disavowing the country. The crowd could not fail to 
regard the free thinker as a bad citizen, an enemy of the 
city-state; and accordingly it felt justified in banishing 
him or even in putting him to death. 


(2) cuLtr 


Priesthoods.—Like the gods, the cults in Greece were 
essentially local. Consequently, there was no unified 


20 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


sacerdotal body. The majority of the Greek cults had 
originally been domestic cults ; it was the head of the fam- 
ily who offered the sacrifice in the name of his own people. 
This was likewise true of the phratries and of the tribes; 
indeed, wherever there was a social group, the head of that 
group was by right its natural representative before the 
gods. When the towns, the city-states, were organized, 
it was often the old domestic cults which became the cults 
of the new collectivities. Those which did not remain 
hereditary in a family, according to a fixed law of suc- 
cession, were transferred to some public function. More- 
over, every association acquired a priesthood of its own. 
‘Thus there were as many priests or colleges of priests as 
there were cults, altho at no time was there manifested 
the least tendency toward the formation of a national 
hierarchy. Let it be noted, in addition, that these 
priests, whoever they were, had nothing to teach, since 
the religion involved neither dogmas nor theology. In 
no sense were they doctors or expounders. Their func- 
tion was limited to the performance of religious cere- 
monies according to consecrated rites. 

Sacrifices and Prayers. Religious Formalism.—To 
these rites the Greeks attached great importance. The 
cult consisted of sacrifices, prayers, and various festivals, 
all the details of which were minutely regulated. Each 
god had his preferred offerings, which had to be presented 
to him in a traditional form. An oversight, an omis- 
sion, was likely to cause him grave offense. The diversity 
of these offerings was therefore great, and they differed 
still more according to the importance of the favor 
solicited and according to the means of the supplant. 
Sometimes they consisted of victims, such as oxen, sheep, 
goats, or swine; sometimes of cakes, grain, or flour; at 
other times they were composed of libations of wine, 


THE RELIGION OF THE GREEKS 21 


honey, or water. Human sacrifices, mentioned in the 
Iliad, seem to have disappeared almost entirely in the his- 
toric period, by virtue of the gradual mollification of cus- 
toms. In general, there prevailed some idea of an equival- 
ence between the thing offered and the favor solicited. 
One scarcely finds in Greece a religious ceremony which — 
may be looked upon as a pure, entirely disinterested act 
of devotion. 

Festivals and Games.—All the Greek festivals were re- 
lated to the national religion, as were also all the solemn 
acts of public and private life. Some of them com- 
memorated legendary events; others grew out of primitive 
rites the original character of which had become more or 
less effaced; a certain number perpetuated obsequies for- 
merly instituted in honor of some hero. But whatever 
their origin, their role in the national life, and in that of 
the city-states, was considerable. Not only did they ex- 
cite intense emotions, occasion public rejoicings, evoke 
common traditions of long standing, and bring into closer 
relationships all those who took part in them; but, more 
than that, they gave rise to spectacles which contributed 
materially to the physical, intellectual, and moral develop- 
ment of the various Greek peoples and of the nation as 
a whole. 

Among the festivals of the city-states, those of Sparta 
and Athens, especially the latter, are the best known. 
Sparta had its Hyacinthia, its Carnea, and its Gymno- 
pedia; Athens, its Panathenea, its Anthesteria, its 
Lenea, its Country Dionysia and, a little later, its great 
City Dionysia. We see these festivals steadily develop- 
ing in organization and increasing in number and im- 
portance, according as the city-state itself grows and as 
its social life becomes more and more active. From year 
to year new forms of art are pressed into the service of 


22 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


the festivals. In the sixth century B.c. the Panathenea 


begin to offer the rhapsodists occasion for reciting to the 
Athenian public, in exienso, the great poems of Ionia. 
At about the same time, and in the same city, the festivals 
of Dionysus introduce the dithyramb, perfected by Arion 
and Lasus; and also, on the other hand, the great novelty 


of the day, the first dramatic efforts of Thespis and his. 


successors, On their part, the plastic arts most capable 
of contributing to the glory of the cult, namely, architec- 
ture and sculpture, naturally profit by the intense reli- 
gious movement excited and sustained by these great 
periodical manifestations. Moreover, the influence of the 
festivals transcends even these limits. Among all the citi- 
zens they create and develop a sense of beauty; they call 
forth a most honorable spirit of emulation among the 
tribes of one and the same city-state invited to participate 
in their celebration; they give the wealthy an opportunity 
to dispense benefactions and charities, thereby doing 
honor to their own generosity; they provide spiritual 


pleasures for the poor; they arouse in everybody common 


sentiments of exultation and pride. We may add, finally, 
that these festivals, in attracting strangers from near and 
far, spread abroad the renown of the city in which they 
were held, giving it a reputation for hospitality and for 
beauty which was not without advantage to the growth of 
its commerce. 

Still more important were the Panhellenic festivals, the 
great games held at Olympia, at Delphi, on the Cor- 
inthian Isthmus, and at Nemea. As far back as the 
eighth century s. c. the Olympic contests began to attract 
the inhabitants of the neighboring city-states to Pisa; 
and in the two following centuries these contests acquired 
a decidedly national character. The most celebrated, 





THE RELIGION OF THE GREEKS 23 


athletes in all Greece gathered there to contend for the 
prize awarded to the winner of the foot-race, the wrestling 
match, the boxing bout, and the pentathlon. All the 
Greek peoples took a lively interest in these contests, which 
ealled for physical strength, agility, and courage; and 
the honors which the city-states heaped upon their vic- 
torious members bear witness to the value that was every- 
where attached to these qualities. For assembled Greece 
these spectacles were the glorification of an ideal of 
virility. On the other hand, when horse-racing and 
chariot-racing were introduced, the princes and the landed 
nobles were glad indeed of the opportunity to set out 
their luxuries for popular admiration. ‘To the banks of 
the Alpheus came not only the wealthiest citizens of 
Greece proper, but also the tyrants of the Hellenic city- 
states of Sicily, southern Italy, and Libya. Barbarians 
alone were excluded; and this very fact brought it about 
that in these quadrennial panegyres the sentiment of 
national unity and original fraternity could not fail to 
make itself felt, notwithstanding rivalries and hatreds. 
The truce proclaimed at that time in the name of the gods 
brought back to men’s minds what was too often forgotten 
in daily life. Delphi, which also celebrated every four 
years its Pythian Games, offering public exhibitions of 
the same kind, was still richer in religious suggestions, 
thanks to the Temple of Apollo and to its oracle, which 
made it a sort of Panhellenic sanctuary. Moreover, the 
victories won in these contests, like those achieved on the 
Isthmus and at Nemea, served as a theme for lyric poetry; 
and this poetry, in celebrating the country and the family 
of the victors, reveled in clothing its eulogies in mythical 
narratives which gave new life and new glory to all the 
old legends, both local and national. 


24 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


(3) DIVINATION AND ORACLES 


Ideas of the Greeks concerning Divination. Seers. 
Oracles.—With the national religion there were likewise 
associated numerous forms of divination, unanimously 
looked upon by the Greeks as one of the most precious 
manifestations of divine benevolence. Among them, in 
fact, there prevailed a general belief that certain revela- 
tions concerning the future could be obtained either thru 
the observation and interpretation of signs, or from the 
responses which certain gods condescended to make to 
those who questioned them. Thanks to such celestial 
advice, one hoped to escape from the uncertainties and 
perplexities of daily life, both public and private. 

The interpretation of signs was preéminently the office 
of seers consecrated to that service, that is to say, of 
specially endowed men and women. To them, accord- 
ingly, one had daily recourse for the purpose of finding 
out the significance of such minor incidents, interpreted 
as divine omens, as the flight of a bird, a peal of thunder, 
an unexpected meeting, or even a simple word uninten- 
tionally uttered or accidentally overheard; and in the 
absence of recognized seers, each individual drew personal 
conjectures from such omens. We should have but a poor 
conception of the intellectual temper of Greece if we 
failed to take into account these universal superstitions 
and their significance. 

Of all the forms of divination, however, none was of so 
great importance as the oracles. An oracle, whatever its 
form, was properly the revelation made by a god in his 
sanctuary. All the gods did not give oracles, and all the 
_ sanctuaries did not lay claim to the privilege of prophecy. 
Among those that had this special privilege, there were 





THE RELIGION OF THE GREEKS 25 


certain ones that enjoyed a superior authority. Es- 
pecially favored were the oracle of Zeus at Dodona, those 
of Apollo at Delphi and at Clarus, and that of Trophonius 
at Lebadzxa, in Beotia. Each of them had its follow- 
ing; but in the sixth century s.c. that of Delphi had 
already become the national oracle par excellence. 
This was due to its central location, to the amphictyonic 
festivals held there, to the sagacity of the priests in 
charge of it, to its relations with Sparta, and perhaps 
also to the very form of its revelations. It was from 
Apollo himself, infallibile interpreter of the thoughts of 
Zeus, his father, that these revelations were supposed to 
emanate. Apollo spoke thru the mouth of an inspired 
woman, the Pythia, who in a sort of delirium uttered con- 
fused words, which were immediately construed in a more 
or less ambiguous and enigmatic form by “prophets” 
charged with this duty. The consultants who carried 
away these mysterious sentences then sought to interpret 
their meaning, at once pleased and perplexed by this 
divine confidence, anxious possessors of a secret on which 
often their most cherished hopes depended. Moreover, 
an oracle of this nature was not consulted solely with 
regard to private affairs. The Greek city-states also 
addressed themselves to it officially for information or 
advice affecting their most serious interests. They never 
failed to consult it regarding the sending out of their 
colonies, or regarding their military enterprises; they 
sought its counsel in matters of law; they were especially 
anxious to secure its advice regarding all religious ques- 
tions, as also regarding portents, epidemics, and scourges 
of all kinds. Many of them had special officers charged 
with conducting these consultations, as also with applying 
old oracles to new cases which might arise. 

Let us not conclude from this, however, that the Greek 


26 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


city-states had accepted the principle of a sort of theo- 
cratic government. The truth is, their freedom of action 
was never seriously diminished. Aside from the fact 
that these consultations depended entirely upon their own 
free will, there was of course always more than one way of 
interpreting an oracle. The prudent ambiguity of the di- 
vine word, which evaded all responsibility, explains why 
the authority of the gods was more apparent than real. 
The politicians knew how to make the people accept, 
among numerous possible interpretations, the one which 
accorded with their own personal views; and in the last 
analysis the actual decisions were usually made on the 
basis of rational motives. 


(4) RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT; MORALITY 


Religious Sentiment.—If now we inquire into the exact 
nature of Greek religious sentiment, there appears to be 
no doubt that its primary and fundamental element was 
fear. ‘The Greek did not regard goodness or even justice 
as essential attributes of divinity. On the contrary, it 
seemed to him quite natural, as we have observed, for 
the gods to be jealous, irritable, and implacable in their 
hatreds, and for them to use all their power to satisfy 
these passions. His first concern, therefore, was to avoid 
offending any one of the gods. But there was always 
great danger of doing so unintentionally. Excessive am- 
bition, an effort to rise too high in the world, inordinate 
success, or a too brilliant stroke of fortune, were regarded 
by these suspicious lords as so many attempts upon their 
superiority. Hence the first duty of a man was to re- 
member that he was a man. A haughty word, or the 
omission of a traditional homage, might bring down the 
wrath of one of the divine powers upon an individual or 


THE RELIGION OF THE GREEKS 27 


upon a whole city; and in such an event it was expected 
that the offended god might avenge himself by causing 
some public or private misfortune, a catastrophe or a 
scourge of some kind. No doubt the forms of the cult 
were looked upon as means of avoiding these terrible con- 
sequences. None of these means, however, seemed abso- 
lutely sure; and therefore, as soon as a man had reason 
to suspect any divine disfavor, he consulted the oracles 
and prophets, the depositaries of divine knowledge, upon 
whom it then devolved to recommend various modes of 
appeasement and conciliation. In this respect there was 
no difference between the most enlightened and the least 
cultivated peoples of Greece. Starting with the same be- 
liefs, their sentiments were likewise the same. 

If this state of mind did not paralyze the activity of 
the Greeks, it was no doubt due to the fact that their 
natural energy enabled them to find in these very beliefs, 
not only objects of fear, but also reasons for confidence 
which far outweighed the former in value. In general, 
the Greek persisted in consulting his gods until he had 
obtained favorable presages from them; and having once 
obtained them, he felt sure of success. His gods then 
became incomparable allies for him; and precisely be- 
cause he considered them very awe-inspiring, he did not 
doubt that they would cause his enemies likewise to feel 
their invincible power. ‘Thanks to a spiritual anthro- 
pomorphism, thus interpreted, the very conception of 
destiny was happily alleviated. Between mankind and 
this far-off power these semi-human gods interposed 
themselves very opportunely—these gods whom one could 
propitiate and with whom one could even make friends. 

Did this confidence amount even to love? If by love 
we mean a sort of rapture of the soul rising in ecstasy 
toward an ideal of perfection with which it is eager to 


28 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


unite, it seems evident that no such thing was possible in 
Greece, at least not before the development of a phi- 
losophy imbued with mysticism. Nevertheless, in regard- 
ing a god as the protector and friend of the city-state in 
which one lived, one came to the point of loving that god 
as one loved the city-state itself. His legend was em- 
bodied in the local history and his worship was identified 
with patriotism. ‘There is no doubt that the Athenians 
were as proud of the legendary exploits of Athena as they 
were of their own; and one will readily admit that their 
devotion to the virgin warrior who had always lived by 
preference on the Acropolis, was not essentially different 
from a respectful love. 

Religion and Morality.—What influence did this reli- 
gion have upon morals? Certain it is that the myths 
on which it was based had nothing in common with 
morality. ‘These myths were formed to account for an- 
cient or new rites, or to unify diverse beliefs, and for that 
purpose they interpreted these phenomena in the form 
of narratives or genealogies. Hence the phenomena in 
question had to be represented, now as conflicts between 
deities, now as unions, legitimate and illegitimate, be- 
tween gods and goddesses. On the other hand, the desire 
to link princely lines with divine origins had led to the 
invention of innumerable love-adventures between gods 
and mortals. Hence a multitude*of stories in which 
violence, deception, falsehood, and sensuality were given 
free rein. How could a religion bound up with such 
beliefs have failed to endanger human morals? 

There are a few evidences, indeed, that these myths 
sometimes served as excuses for excesses, when offenders 
sought precedents for their own justification. On the 
whole, however, these were exceptional cases. In general 
it may be said that, contrary to what would be expected, 


THE RELIGION OF THE GREEKS 29 


the Greek religion, such as it was, rather served as an 
effective support for morality. It did not do so, to be 
sure, without having itself been subjected to the influence 
of reason. There is no doubt that morality, while 
progressing of its own accord, first purified religion. It 
spread abroad the idea that the life of the gods was not 
to be judged according to the rules of human conduct; 
it relegated their life to a purely mythological order of 
things, which had but a slight connection with practical 
reason. But then religion, thus purified, had a beneficial 
reaction upon morality. Since the gods were everywhere 
regarded as the natural patrons of the family, the tribe, 
or the city-state, it seemed logical to believe that every- 
thing which favored their prosperity was agreeable to 
them. It is to be admitted, therefore, that respect for 
an oath, justice, probity, obedience to law, moral dis- 
cipline, even humanity, were of a nature calculated to 
gratify them, while contrary acts necessarily displeased 
them. Hence the conviction prevailed that the gods 
heaped blessings upon peoples who practiced justice and 
punished those who trampled it under foot. Thus it 
came about that this religion, which taught no morality, 
nevertheless became the guardian of the public morals. 


(5) ALIEN RELIGIONS 


Foreign Religions. The Mysteries——Altho the Greek 
city-state had its preferred gods, it nevertheless recog- 
nized all the Hellenic gods and paid homage to them. 
In principle it excluded only the gods of barbarians, 
without, however, denying their existence; and thru the 
force of circumstances it was even led gradually to admit 
them. The city-state, intolerant as regards its own mem- 
bers, could not be equally intolerant as regards foreigners. 


30 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Having once allowed them to settle within its confines, 
it could not easily, for any length of time, proscribe 
their cults or ignore their beliefs; and in the long 
run these beliefs necessarily won some acceptance among 
the people who gave them a place in their midst. In the 
period prior to the Persian Wars, one case of this nature 
is particularly to be noted—the influence of the Thracian 
cult of Dionysus. 

This cult seems to have been foreign to Greece proper 
at the time when the Homeric poems were composed. 
Of a semi-savage nature, it was characterized by ecstatic 
transports, processions of women across the mountains, 
shrieks and howls, and the immolation of animals, whose 
bodies were torn to pieces and whose still palpitating 
entrails were devoured by eager worshippers of the god. 
At what precise time and by what route it penetrated into 
central Greece, is unknown. At a very early date we find 
it in honor at Thebes, at Delphi, on the frontiers of 
Attica, in Elis, and elsewhere—an evidence that there 
existed in the Greek soul, notwithstanding its qualities 
of moderation and reason, a certain inclination toward 
mystic enthusiasm which must be taken into account. If 
sensual excitement, which found satisfaction in this cult, 
was not everywhere received with the same enthusiasm, 
at least a part of this religion of Dionysus was estab- — 
lished everywhere, even in Attica, bringing with it an 
element of exaltation which was destined to make itself 
felt in the dithyramb, in tragedy, and in comedy. 

On the other hand, and perhaps under the same in- 
fluence, primitive religions enter into an entirely new stage 
of development at that time. This was the case with the 
religious celebrations called the “Mysteries.” What dis- 
tinguished them was their secret character. We have 
reason to believe that they were originally local cults, 


THE RELIGION OF THE GREEKS 31 


pertaining to certain families. Little by little these 
families admitted others to them, on condition of a pre- 
liminary initiation and of a promise not to divulge any 
secrets. It finally came about that some of these cults 
were adopted and patronized by certain states. None 
was more celebrated than that of Eleusis, the rites of 
which were held in the sanctuary of Demeter and Kora 
(Persephone). The Mysteries of these two goddesses 
proceeded almost certainly from an ancient agrarian 
cult. ‘They owed an ever-increasing favor to the revela- 
tions which they made to the initiated concerning their 
fate after death. ‘The official religion, it is true, recog- 
nized a god of the underworld; and poetry had spread 
abroad some vague notions regarding an abode of the 
dead; but what it told of this abode could not inspire 
anything but a sense of dread. Consequently many. 
troubled minds were impelled to look elsewhere for hopes 
and assurances which the traditional beliefs did not hold 
forth to them. These hopes were given precisely to the 
initiated in the form of visions. Ideas borrowed from 
the legend of Persephone, carried away by Hades and 
later restored; or again the contemplation of symbols 
based upon the grain of wheat long buried underground 
and later appearing with its stalk and spike; and to- 
gether with this, mysterious formulas, radiant appari- 
tions following darkness—all these things became for well- 
prepared believers who were eager for reassuring promises, 
so many guarantees of a privileged happiness. For them 
there was no need of positive and precise doctrines; it 
sufficed for them to see and hear. In a sense it was 
the very reality of their cherished survival that the 
Mystery revealed to their eyes. The guarantee of it was 
given them by the initiation. 

Such is the idea that one may form of the Greek reli- 


32 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 
gion before it had been permeated by philosophy—a 


religion with little coherence, for the most part; devoid 
of doctrine; very susceptible to the inventions of poets 
and very favorable to the free play of their imaginations ; 
little by little becoming united with notions of morality 
of which it was originally independent; powerful by rea- 
son of its close connection with all the activities of public 
and private life, and by reason of its intimate associa- 
tion with local and national sentiments; susceptible of a 
certain mysticism but especially productive of outward 
manifestations ; creator of numerous and diverse cults and 
festivals; inspirer of some of the most beautiful literary 
and artistic works that human genius has produced. 


CHAPTER III 
THE TESTIMONY OF EPIC POETRY 


The Ancient Greek Epics.—Almost everything that has 
just been said about the beginnings of Greek civilization 
is to some extent expounded and greatly clarified by the 
testimony of the Greek epic poems. Only three of them 
have come down to us; but these three represent magnifi- 
cently an epic literature which was certainly considerable. 
They are: the Iliad and the Odyssey, which are supposed 
to have been composed between the ninth and the end of 
the eighth centuries n.c.; the Works and Days of 
Hesiod, which is perhaps a little more recent. These 
poems reveal to us the entire life of that period in its 
three principal aspects: war, with its vicissitudes; navi- 
gation and maritime adventure; and agriculture—an 
admirable trilogy which idealized the passions, customs, 
and ideas of a singularly energetic humanity and en- 
dowed them with a beauty which permeated the entire 
subsequent life of the Greek people. 

Heroic Legends. Heroes.—The substance of these 
three epics is composed of legends, that is to say, of nar- 
ratives more or less fabulous but regarded in their time as 
historic. Nowhere is the richness of the Hellenic imagina- 
tion better illustrated than in the abundance and variety 
of these narratives. Every section of Greece, every tribe, 
every large family, had its own set of legends. ‘They were 
mixtures of memories, of traditions, and of free inventions ; 


the elements of truth in them were concealed behind pure 
33 


34 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


fiction. But truth or fiction, these narratives were titles 
to nobility to be proud of. Each of the human groups 
which had created them had put into them what was close 
to its heart—the image of its past, its own character, 
its ideal. In them it recognized, and cherished, its very ~ 
own self. 

In general, an epic narrative was concentrated, so to 
speak, around one personage or several personages, some- 
times around a family. ‘These representative personages 
were the heroes. Without stopping here to inquire if 
they were all of the same origin, we may content ourselves 
with noting their general characteristics at the time of 
their entrance into epic poetry. ‘The epic hero is a man 
of the divine race. Son, grandson, or descendant of a 
mortal woman supposed to have consorted with a god, 
he has elements at once of divine and of human nature. 
Being mortal, he is subject to human miseries, physical 
and moral; but having sprung from the blood of a god, 
he is much superior to the common run of men in strength, 
in endurance, in fleetness, in stature, in beauty, sometimes 
also in prudence. But altho all the heroes had some of 
these superiorities in common, they nevertheless differed 
considerably among themselves. In them, accordingly, is 
manifested the full variety of aptitudes characteristic of 
the Greek race; and this accounts for the influential rdéle 
which these heroes played in the development of the na- 
tional life. In the person of an Achilles, the Greek, to 
whatsoever city-state he belonged, admired all the physi- 
cal qualities of which he was instinctively fond; in that 
of a Nestor or a Ulysses, he applauded sound reasoning, 
skill, and practical sense, which in his eyes were of no 
less value. ‘Thus in creating its heroes Greece set up 
for itself, from its very infancy, living types of humanity 
in which it was always to take delight. Let us, therefore, 


THE TESTIMONY OF EPIC POETRY 35 


rapidly survey the epic narratives which had the glorifi- 
cation of such types as an object, and let us seek to dis- 
cover in them the more important moral concepts which 


they embody. 


(1) war 
General Idea of War in Greek Epic Poetry. Law of, 


Nations.—The Iliad shows us two nations at war, the 
Achzans on the one side and the Trojans on the other. 
It is not a war of conquest; the vindication of the prin- 
ciple of justice serves as its cause. A Trojan prince, 
Paris, has eloped with an Achean woman, Helen, wife of 
King Menelaus. Aided by the goddess Aphrodite, he has 
seduced her and carried her away on his ships, together 
with a part of her riches. The Achean princes, con- 
federated under the authority of Agamemnon, have come 
in arms to lay siege to Troy, demanding the return of 
Helen and her riches. The Trojan king, Priam, domi- 
nated by his son, Paris, refuses to surrender them. Such 
are the underlying facts to be considered. 

The act of Paris illustrates the prevailing custom of 
that age. Thus we witness the abduction of women and 
the pillage of property, not by professional pirates, but 
by adventurous princes; and neither their families nor 
their subjects disavow these practices. In this instance 
violence is accompanied by treachery, since Paris has been 
received as a guest at Sparta. This violence the 
Acheans feel justified in punishing. <A vague feeling for 
the law of nations inspires their outraged feelings. 
They have not come to destroy the city of Troy, but to 
secure justice for themselves. A remarkable fact is that 
they regard the injury done to Menelaus as a common in- 
jury done to all of them. Among them prevails a feeling 


36 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


of national solidarity strong enough to make them con- 
sent to place themselves under one leader. In this we 
perceive clearly the earliest manifestation of a Panhellenic 
sentiment. During the war itself the idea of a law of 
nations appears on several occasions: arrangements are 
concluded between the two parties, oaths are exchanged, 
on both sides efforts are made to terminate the hostilities. 
The oaths are violated, to be sure, but even this violation 
is sharply condemned by the saner men whom passion 
does not blind. 

Let us note, however, that these principles of inter- 
national law were not yet very precise nor very well un- 
derstood. The Trojans of the Iliad, in the moments 
when they foresee their defeat, anticipate that their city 
will be burned and pillaged, the men massacred, the 
women distributed among the conquerors and carried 
away by them to become their slaves and their concubines ; 
and we know that in other epic poems which supplemented 
the Iliad, all this was effectively realized. According to 
the Iliad itself, the combatants overcome and disarmed 
on the field of battle may, according to the pleasure of 
the conqueror, either be slain on the spot or sold as slaves. 
Except in case of special agreement, the dead are left 
without burial; and only in exceptional cases are their 
bodies ransomed. Finally, altho the Acheans are fight- 
ing for the vindication of the principle of justice, the 
most prominent of them do not dissimulate an added 
motive, namely, the desire for booty, on which they 
eagerly reckon in advance. 

But it is important to note (for it is one of those things 
which add honor to the genius of the race) that at times 
a natural spontaneity outstripped the always slow normal 
progress of law and custom. The conversation of Priam 
and Achilles is equivalent to a superior and almost divine 


THE TESTIMONY OF EPIC POETRY 37 


revelation. Here we see the rise, as it were, of a new 
dawn of humanity, the beneficent glow of which appears 
all of a sudden amid surviving vestiges of barbarism. 
The more cruel Achilles is shown to be in his treatment of 
the conquered Hector, the more impressed we are by the 
sudden emotion which takes hold of him when he sees 
the aged Priam embrace his knees, when he thinks of his 
own father, likewise aged and likewise destined to mourn 
his fallen son. The feeling which suddenly rises in him 
is the intuition of a human solidarity founded upon a 
common destiny, which exposes all mortal beings to the 
same vicissitudes and the same sufferings. Does not such 
a scene realize a moral attainment of incomparable value? 

The Combat and the Combatants.—The war which the 
Iliad unfolds before our eyes is the siege of a city. But 
the Acheans are not conducting a war of siege; for that 
they have neither the means nor the method—no engines 
of war, no approaches. The siege is a blockade, which 
is drawn out indefinitely. The actual fighting takes place 
in the open. We may disregard here the small amount 
of military science which is manifested; suffice it to say 
that, simple as it all is, there is nevertheless revealed an 
unmistakable sense of organization. The Achezans are 
divided into tribes and phratries; they are drawn up, now 
in parallel lines, now in columns. Their leaders are 
mounted on chargers, and for the most part they ride 
ahead of their men in order to open up wide gaps in the 
opposing ranks. 

Of particular interest to us, on the other hand, are the 
sentiments which animate the combatants. What this 
martial poetry exalts above everything else is, of course, 
courage. It shows us courage inspired by moral motives, 
such as honor, love of glory, patriotism, and desire for 
revenge. But since these motives do not always operate 


38 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


with the same force, the firmness of spirit of which they 
are the support is not always the same. It is likely to 
weaken, even to fail, especially in a crowd of combatants. 
Sometimes sudden panics seize them, resulting in flight, 
in a disorderly and tumultuous rout. It is necessary for 
the leaders to intervene, to rebuke the fugitives, to put 
them to shame and to threaten them, to recount to them 
all the reasons which command them to stand firm. In 
this way hearts are hardened and wills are strengthened. 
Reason, aided by noble sentiments, restores among the 
combatants a courage of which this very power of reason 
is the fundamental element. 

Among the motives of action, honor holds first place. 
None of these men will allow himself to pass for a coward. 
Almost all of them covet praise; they love glory. Among 
the leaders glory is a passion, perhaps the foremost of 
their passions. To honor is added patriotism; in the 
mind of the Acheans the two are inseparable. They 
wish to honor their country by their valor and to uphold 
the name of their fathers. Among the Trojans, patriot- 
ism is especially the anxious desire to defend their wives 
and their children, their gods and their homes. It is ex- 
pressed admirably in the exclamation of Hector: “‘the 
best of the auguries is to fight for the city of one’s 
fathers.” Moreover, the Achzeans think also of their 
native land, and the desire to see it again as soon as pos- 
sible is one of the sentiments which inspires them. 

Such an army can not lack discipline. Somewhere the 
poet shows us the Achzans marching to battle in silence 
and in order, while the Trojans advance tumultuously, 
emitting loud and confused cries. ‘The contrast is due, 
perhaps, to a personal conception. But is not this con- 
ception itself significant? Clearly the Greek public to 
whom this picture was presented appreciated the beauty 


oe ee eG. a, Sa oe 


THE TESTIMONY OF EPIC POETRY 39 


of it. It amounts to saying that in the judgment of the 
hearers of the Iliad, order, good deportment, and disci- 
pline were necessary conditions underlying the superiority 
of one army to another. In all the manifestations of the 
Greek mind these fundamental qualities will always be 
found. : 
The Army outside the Battlefield. The Council and 
Assembly.—When the army is not fighting, it becomes a 
people again. We then observe in operation the insti- 
tutions referred to above. What we see is the function- 
ing of an aristocratic royalty. At the head we find a 
supreme king, Agamemnon, the leader of the army. At 
his side there is a Council of subordinate kings, the 
chieftains of the confederated peoples—a Council which 
he calls to deliberate with him on all serious resolutions, 
ard the advice of which he generally follows. Further 
down is an Assembly, a gathering of the entire people. 
The king communicates his decisions to it; the members 
of the Council sometimes support these decisions; the 
Assembly approves by acclamation. It does not de- 
liberate, but it has to declare itself in all matters; its » 
concurrence must either be won or else exacted by the 
prestige of authority. © 

Such a form of government gives very free play to dis- 
cussion—deliberations of the Council, consultations of 
chiefs, embassies, exhortions to the troops, harangues 
addressed to the Assembly. Suffice it to say that here 
already we find a genuine eloquence, still primitive in its 
simplicity, but nevertheless skillful; at times vigorous, 
urgent and terse; more often suggestive, narrative, or 
even digressive; always, however, endowed with a natural 
elegance, always easy and supple—a well-nigh perfect ex- 
ample of its kind. In the Iliad there are almost as many 
beautiful speeches as there are beautiful narratives. 


40 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


The Besieged City.—The Iliad, in its general trend, is 
incontestably the poem of the conquerors; but it by no 
means disregards the conquered or treats them with in- 
difference. One of its merits is that it introduces us, 
when necessary, into the besieged city and reveals to us 
there the sorrowful effects of the war. It is full of a pro- 
found human sympathy. 

A few celebrated scenes are particularly significant in 
this respect. The most valiant of the Trojan warriors, 
Hector, returns for a few moments to the city, where he 
meets his wife Andromache, accompanied by the nurse 
holding in her arms their only child Astyanax. Hector 
is about to leave them to return to battle. ‘The presenti- 
ment of death haunts his mind. Yet this matters not, 
for he has no right to shun personal danger. In vain 
Andromache entreats him and weeps. Moved to the very 
depths of his soul, he tears himself from her arms, em- 
braces the child whom he is never again to see, at the 
same time praying to the gods that some day the boy may 
be as brave as and more happy than his father. Further 
on it is Priam and Hecuba, as well as Andromache, who 
witness from the walls of Troy the combat in which 
Hector succumbs to the blows of Achilles and who be- 
hold the outrages inflicted upon the body of the con- 
quered hero. Nothing could be more moving than the 
picture of their anguish, their moral distress. Finally, 
at the end of the poem, we are present at the burial of 
Hector. One after the other, his mother, Hecuba, his 
widow, Andromache, his sister-in-law, Helen, lament be- 
side his funeral pyre. Thus from the beginning to the 
end of this epic, which exalts warlike virtues, a certain 
attention is devoted to pity; and this is not the least 
important nor the least beautiful feature of the poem. 
Hence a very noble side of the Greek soul is revealed in 


THE TESTIMONY OF EPIC POETRY Al 


this work, which serves as witness and interpreter of its 
most ancient aspirations. 


(2) NAVIGATION AND MARITIME ADVENTURE 


The Odyssey—The second of the great Greek epic 
poems, the Odyssey, supplements the Iliad by presenting a 
very different spectacle. For the most part it is an ac- 
count of the wanderings of Ulysses, roaming on the seas 
or detained on some far off island, seeking to return to 
his native land of Ithaca. As a sequel to his adventures, 
the poem relates his return to his home, invaded during 
his absence by neighboring princes who have sought to 
compel his wife, Penelope, to marry one of them. 

The Legends of the Sea.—The basis and original ele- 
ments of this poem, accordingly, are the legends of the 
sea, some of them supposed to have been told by Ionian 
sailors when they returned from their first voyages of 
exploration—marvelous tales in which it is scarcely pos- 
sible to discern what belongs to free fancy and what is 
merely a distortion of misinterpreted realities. ‘The 
itinerary of Ulysses seems to have been jumbled at the 
pleasure of the narrator. Such as it is, however, it in- 
dicates a certain knowledge of the northern coast of 
Africa and of parts of the western Mediterranean, es- 
pecially the shores of Sicily. The voyages of Ulysses 
constitute an entire cycle of legends of undoubtedly 
diverse origins, all of them, however, abounding in the 
marvelous. The countries represented by the poet are 
supposed never before: to have been visited by any hu- 
man being. Their inhabitants are either giants, or 
monsters, or privileged peoples, or gods. The imagina- 
tion which created this fairy world, as well as the im- 
agination of the people for whom it was created, had still 


42 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


retained much of its childlike naiveté. The charm of the 
unknown worked powerfully upon these people. They 
had no thought of criticism or of verification; it sufficed 
for the poet to know how to lend probability to the improb- 
able. 'The Greek narrator excelled in this, to such an ex- 
tent that we of the present day still allow ourselves to be 
fascinated by the charm of his imaginative creations. 
Navigation and the Greek Mariner.—But what moves 
and interests us most in the narratives of this part of the 
Odyssey is the essentially human element. Ulysses, 
altho a hero, is a Greek mariner of the type that was 
undoubtedly common at the time of the first distant 
navigations. We see him with his companions in his 
boat, the latter poorly adapted to resist wind and weather, 
sailing along the coast, the projections of which serve 
as guiding-points for him, spreading his only sail when 
the wind is favorable, otherwise advancing with difficulty 
by the propulsion of oars. He sails only by day, fearful 
of losing his way in the darkness of night, and draws his 
boat up on the sand when evening approaches. Provident 
and wary, knowing the dangers that menace him, he does 
everything he can to avoid them; and when his prudence 
fails him, his courage and presence of mind come to his 
rescue. Driven toward an unknown shore, he manages 
to discover a hidden opening for his boat. He does not 
enter the interior of a region without first exploring it 
as far as he can. He is constantly on his guard. He 
observes everything which may help to inform him as 
to the customs of the inhabitants. He is ever ready to 
fight or to flee. In reading certain scenes of the Odyssey 
we can form a mental picture of the men of Miletus dis- 
embarking for the first time on the unknown shores of 
the Propontis. Such an episode is in a sense a fragment 
of what might have been their log. Elsewhere we see 


THE TESTIMONY OF EPIC POETRY AS 


them struggling with the difficulties and hardships of 
primitive navigation, with hunger and thirst, buffeting 
the winds and waves, which make play of their frail craft. 
We understand, we almost share, their anxieties, their 
terrors; we admire their endurance, their energy, their 
discipline. Ulysses represents all of them; but in him 
we recognize especially the chief endowed with all the 
qualities of leadership, the man on whom rests the re- 
sponsibility for the common safety, who foresees every- 
thing and thinks of everything, whose courage is never 
daunted, whose resourceful mind is never at a loss. The 
Odyssey was truly the poem of a seafaring people. 

The Return of the Navigator.—It contains, however, 
something more than narratives of the sea. It also 
describes for us, in the form of a legend peculiar to 
Ulysses, a very different aspect of the life of the naviga- 
tor—the long absence of the head of the family believed 
to have perished at sea, and the drama of his homecoming. 
Thus it throws a brilliant light on a social state which it 
is of the greatest interest to consider. 

In a rich, princely home a woman, Penelope, and her 
son, Telemachus, remain alone, awaiting year after year 
the return of husband and father. They alone await it; 
the people scarcely believe any longer in the possibility 
of his return. Neighboring princes covet the rich and 
seductive woman, whom they consider a widow, and with 
her they perhaps hope to secure a part of her fortune. 
As she rejects their proposals in fidelity to her absent 
husband, they establish themselves by force in the lat- 
ter’s home and live on his goods, which they insolently 
squander. The young Telemachus has neither the au- 
thority nor the strength to expel them. What is to be 
done? There is no public authority to protect the 
family ; in the social order of that time the power of the 


44: HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


state does not yet exist. Each family defends itself; 
outside it can seek only voluntary allies. If these allies 
fail it, it is reduced to its own resources. 

Ulysses does, however, return; but he returns alone. 
What can be done against so many allied adversaries? 
Disguised as a beggar, he observes his enemies, secretly. 
rallies some helpers and with the latter prepares the sur- 
prise blow which will enable him to recover his home. 
The entire second part of the poem is given over to an 
account of this preparation and recovery. It first con- 
ducts us to the rural possessions of Ulysses, introduces 
us in a succession of charming scenes to his devoted serv- 
ant, the aged swineherd Eumeus, and at the same time 
sets forth the economical manner in which the hero man- 
ages his affairs. ‘Then it conducts us to his urban home, 
where a series of episodes reveal the details of the 
domestic life, all the while describing for us the insolence 
of the suitors and the sentiments of the personages in the 
drama. ‘The narrative is replete with moving scenes, with 
precise and curious descriptions. Nowhere else do we 
find so much instruction regarding the customs and the 
private life of primitive Greece; for here as elsewhere we 
have a feeling that the particular story related to us is 
to a certain extent of general applicability. Other 
navigators besides Ulysses must have had similar adven- 
tures in those ancient times. There must have been other 
homecomings, of which his was, as it were, a sort of 
dramatized representation. | 


(3) aGRICULTURE 


The Poem of “Works and Days.”—To these two as- 
pects of the life of the time, war and navigation, another 
poem, the Works and Days of Hesiod, adds a no less in- 


THE TESTIMONY OF EPIC POETRY 45 


teresting description of the agricultural life. Son of 
an Afolian of Cyme, in Asia Minor, the author informs 
us that his father left his country, where he lived in dif- 
ficult circumstances, and settled in the town of <Ascra, 
in Beeotia, where he does not seem to have found much 
more prosperity. His legacy, probably modest, was 
divided between his two sons, Hesiod himself and Perses; 
and it is precisely this division which is the occasion, if 
not the subject, of the poem. The poet informs us that 
the settlement did not satisfy Perses, and that the two 
brothers had recourse to an arbitrament, which fell short 
of reéstablishing the desirable understanding between 
them. Perses, if one is to believe his brother, was a slug- 
gard who worked little and squandered much. In bitter, 
sorrowful verses Hesiod enjoins him to put an end to the 
quarrel, severely reproaches him for his laxity, reminds 
him of the necessity of work and shows him how one 
may profit by it. The entire poem is at once satirical, 
reproachful, and didactic. 

Rural Property m Beotia. Apportionment of In- 
heritances. Dispwtes——What we see here at the very 
start is the division between two brothers of a very modest 
inheritance. From what the poet says it appears that his 
portion was small; and that of Perses could not have 
been much larger. Moreover, when Hesiod speaks of his 
neighbors, we are led to understand that their condition 
was very much the same. There is no doubt, conse- 
quently, that the small landowner prevailed in that part 
of Greece at that time. All the advice that Hesiod gives 
applies only to rather poor people. The smaller the 
property, the greater the attachment to it; and we are 
not surprised to see also that its ownership was jealously 
disputed. But the manner in which the disputants 
reached a settlement remains somewhat obscure for us. 


46 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Of course we know that they had recourse to the arbitra- 
ment of the “kings,” that is to say, probably the rich 
family chiefs, who exercised a vaguely defined authority 
in the growing cities. Hesiod gives us a rather unfavor- 
able idea of their sense of equity; he even goes so far as 
to call them “‘devourers of gifts.” Are these only the ma- 
licious words of a dissatisfied litigant? Perhaps—at least 
to some extent. Nevertheless, if we take into account the 
boldness of the poet and the popularity of his work, we 
are led to believe that in so speaking he felt himself suf- 
ficiently well supported by the opinion of the great num- 
ber. And from this we may conclude, without too much 
hesitation, that everything was not for the best in Beotia 
in the seventh century s.c. How, then, did the working 
people get along in this state of affairs? The poet in- 
forms us. 

Work in the Fields. The Family.—Thanks to him, we 
see them actually at work. His laboring man, who is 
Hesiod himself, has only a plow, a simple swing-plow, 
made by his own hands; and he has also but a single ox 
to drag the plow. One servant assists him in his work. 
With this poor equipment he cultivates the soil. His wife, 
on her part, occupies herself in the house, assisted per- 
haps by a slave. It is she who weaves the linen and 
woolen cloths for clothing, who prepares the food. No 
season of the year is lost. From the time of plowing 
and sowing to the harvest, every detail of useful occupa- 
tions is regulated and cataloged. Some of these oc- 
cupations are reserved for days of winter weather which 
do not permit of outdoor work. It is then that the 
cultivator repairs his broken tools or makes new ones. 
His parsimony is extreme. Poor food, carefully measured 


out, prevails; the slices of bread are counted. It would 


even seem that the mouths to be fed are also counted, for 


Se ee 


THE TESTIMONY OF EPIC POETRY AT 


Hesiod believes that his countrymen ought not to have 
more than one son. Perhaps he is thinking also of the 
disadvantages of the division of property among brothers. 
Besides, how is a piece of land already so small to be 
divided up? 

Is this narrow life, accordingly, entirely devoid of 
pleasure? Such is not the impression which, on the whole, 
this austere poet gives us. First of all, in this laborious 
year there are, in spite of everything, moments of relaxa- 
tion. The harvest and the vintage are the expected 
compensations. When either the one or the other has 
been good, the household joins in celebration. For this 
exceptional work no doubt some additional helpers have 
been called in.. Once the work is done, there is leisure 
to rest in the shade, to repose beside the brook, to con- 
verse lightly—in short, to be happy. Moreover, in read- 
ing the poem we seem to divine in the author another 
more durable and more personal satisfaction. It is the 
satisfaction of one who knows his business, who is con- 
scious of doing his work well, and who delights in his 
experience. The man who addresses us in these verses is 
a close observer of nature. In some sort he is constantly 
prying into it, and in the end he knows it so well that he 
does not hesitate to interpret all its signs. That some 
allowance should be made in the work for prejudices, 
for certain superstitions, and for bold generalizations, 
there is no doubt. It remains no less certain, however, 
that here already is to be found the initial development of 
an agricultural science not without value. And there can 
be no doubt that the person who thus described this 
science took pleasure in summing it up, in controling it 
year by year and day by day, and especially in communi- 
cating it to a public whose admiration it could not fail 
to arouse. 


A8 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 
The Mythology and Morality of the Agriculturist.— 


There is another feature which can not here be over- 
looked, because it is of direct interest to the history 
of civilization. It is the consideration which is given in 
the Works and Days to mythology and to the practical 
philosophy growing out of it. 

What the author of this poem demands of mythology 
is not, as the poets of the heroic epic demand, that it 
provide him with subjects for beautiful narratives, but 
rather that it explain to him the necessity of work im- 
posed upon mankind. He finds this explanation jn the 
myth of Prometheus, in that of Pandora, and in that of 
the succeeding ages of humanity. These old narratives 
seem to him to account for the prevailing condition of 
the world. They lead him to believe that formerly there 
existed happy generations of men on whom the rigid law of 
work was not imposed; and on the whole his naive mind is 
satisfied with this state of affairs. It is true that he has 
no hope of ever seeing the return of this golden age. 
Far from it. He admits that everything in the world is 
going from bad to worse. He is conscious of having been 
born in an age of violence and injustice. This, at least, 
is what he affirms in general. But in his practical ap- 
plication to the daily affairs of life, he by no means draws 
all the consequences from this idea. He firmly believes 
that justice is the law of humanity, since it is its privilege, 
and he does not doubt that Zeus is its natural protector— 
a somewhat negligent protector, perhaps, but neverthe- 
less one whose power is definitely manifested by the 
prosperity which he accords to good people and the pun- 
ishments which he inflicts upon impetuous people. And 
that is why he has confidence in work associated with 
justice and piety; for without such confidence, everything 
he teaches would be futile. 


THE TESTIMONY OF EPIC POETRY 49 


(4) EDUCATIONAL INFLUENCE OF THE EPIC POETRY 


Thanks to these epic poets, Greece possessed, toward 
the beginning of the seventh century B.c., a sort of 
idealized summary of its principal forms of activity, as 
one can see from this brief survey. In these works it 
could learn to know itself, to take cognizance of its good 
qualities as well as of its defects. This was of very great 
advantage to it; for it is certain that the educational 
value of these beautiful poems contributed greatly to the 
moral and artistic development of the country. The spec- 
tacle of conflicting passions offered abundant material for 
reflection. Almost everything of importance which could 
be said regarding good and evil, regarding the qualities 
which do honor to humanity, and regarding human weak- 
ness, had here been said. And the majority of these teach- 
ings were presented in the most vivid and most moving 
form—in the form most likely, consequently, to make a 
deep and lasting impression on the mind. We do not hesi- 
tate to say that all of Greek wisdom originated in these 
works of imagination and reflection. 

But from the standpoint of the awakening of an artistic 
sense, an essential element of Greek civilization, the epics 
were equally beneficent and equally efficacious. They 
showed, in effect, that the representation of life was the 
thing most likely to move men and to arouse in them the 
impression of beauty; and at the same time they dis- 
closed, by admirable examples, how this effect could be 
produced. It appeared that literary art consisted es- 
sentially of simplification and idealization. These poems, 
composed of living substances, delved deeply into reality. 
They represented emotions, sentiments, and passions— 
things which constantly change and contradict themselves. 


50 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


But a powerful mind had succeeded in overcoming this 
confusion and clarifying this obscurity. It had sketched 
noble figures in bold outline, strongly conceived and dar- 
ingly executed, as on a stage on which they stood apart 
by themselves in full view. Everything else was action; 
and action also showed itself subject to the natural laws 
of art. Each poem formed an entity easy to survey at 
a glance. A simple yet varied mode of composition 
tolerated no obscurities ; each part was well proportioned, 
and the interest of the whole was skillfully maintained 
and tempered. The rich inventive genius of the poet was 
restrained by rules of order and moderation. ‘These were 
the fundamental principles of Greek art, one may say, 
which were thus affirmed. 

Moreover, the same epic poems gave to Greece the 
most beautiful poetic language. In what ways, and by 
what gradual process, did this language become differenti- 
ated from the usual language? This would be difficult to 
say. The Iliad reveals the language to us as a finished 
product, already in its full perfection. Its vocabulary ap- 
pears as a rich storehouse of words, well adapted not only 
to define the impressions of the senses, but also to express 
a very great variety of emotions, to denote shades of 
thought, and even to give voice, at that early date, to a 
goodly number of more or less abstract ideas. It was not, 
to be sure, a language to be used for every-day speech. 
But because it grew out of the very genius of the race, it 
was eminently well calculated to stir that genius. In the 
process of awakening thought, it suggested imitations and 
adaptations ; it caused people to sense the value of the der- 
ivation and the composition of words. In fact, all the 
operations of the intelligent mind, all the emotions of the 
soul, were thereby rendered easier, to the great profit of 
the mechanics of the language. Moreover, this beautiful 


THE TESTIMONY OF EPIC POETRY 51 


language was assisted by a versification which redoubled 
its charm. Hearing its melodious ring, the people came 
to feel more vividly that their language was not only 
adapted to the exchange of indispensable ideas, but that 
in resorting to rhythm and cadence, in adorning itself 
with well chosen ornaments, it could become capable of 
charming the mind, of exalting the soul, of producing 
delicate or profound sensations, of transporting its hear- 
ers to an ideal world. The entire intellectual and moral 
development of Greece in the sixth and seventh centuries 
proceeds directly from what had thus been learned. 


CHAPTER IV 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT IN, 
THE SEVENTH AND SIXTH CENTURIES 
BEFORE CHRIST 


General Character of the Seventh and Sixth Centuries. 
—The general progress of thought during these two cen- 
turies was stimulated, moreover, by other causes: the 
increase of the population, which gave rise to large urban 
communities; conflicts between parties; great commercial 
enterprises. Revolutions, always destructive, were also 
influential factors; they brought powerful individualities 
into play; and at the same time they created moral ties, 
common sentiments among men whom they united for the 
protection or promotion of the same interests. In the 
clash of passions the element of personality necessarily 
acquired a new force. Turned to action, the men of 
that time interested themselves less in things of the past 
and more in those of the present. Their hatreds and 
their friendships—these are the subjects that occupy them 
above all; but they are also interested in exhortations and 
counsels, insofar as these devices are still a form of im- 
mediate action, a manifestation of the character or of 
the will. But by a natural reaction, the taste for pleas- 
ure increases in this more restless life. It is favored, 
moreover, by the greater facility of social relations, by 
the gradual mollification of customs, as also by the dif- 
fusion of movable wealth and the consequent increase 


of luxury. 
52 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT _ 33 


Unfortunately we do not possess, for this interesting 
epoch, a volume of testimony comparable with that fur- 
nished by epic poetry. Of the brilliant literature which 
flourished at that time, we have scarcely anything but 
fragments. What remainsis nevertheless sufficient to bring 
to light three essential innovations: the successful rise 
of personal poetry ; the creation of the choral lyric, inter- 
preter of collective sentiments; and finally the birth of 
philosophy and of scientific research. To this, moreover, 
may be added the first steps in the perfection of architec- 
ture, sculpture, and the arts in general. 


(1) PERSONAL POETRY 


New Elements introduced by Personal Poetry. Iambic 
and Elegiac Poetry.—The epic poem was essentially a 
narrative portrayal of the past. If the present was — 
nevertheless reflected in it, this was in some sort involun- 
tary; almost never did the epic poet speak of himself. 
Great was the innovation, therefore, when men and women 
began to make their own sentiments the very subject and 
substance of their poetry. It was natural, or rather 
necessary, that this bold expansion of individuality should 
create new means of expression. Thus, for the grave 
and too uniform measure of the epic hexameter were sub- ~ 
stituted livelier and more varied rhythms. These were, 
on the one hand, the iambic form, with its diverse com- 
binations; on the other hand, the elegiac distich, related 
to the epic hexameter, but more lively, more familiar; and 
finally, the simpler metrical forms of the Afolian and 
Ionian poets. 

The Spirit of Satire. The Pamphlet. Archilochus.— 
Iambic poetry, which owed its success to the genius of 
Archilochus of Paros, produced a scandal at its birth. 


54 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


For the first time poetry, in the hands of this merciless 
and passionate railer, became a terrible, a murderous, 
weapon. In his swift-moving verses, as sharp as ar- 
rows, he dared to express anything—his injuries, his 
furious resentments; and he expressed it all marvelously. 
A poet by instinct, but at the same time an accomplished 
performer, combining vigor with pliancy, sensibility with 
anger, he composed celebrated masterpieces from day to 
day and filled them with his powerful personality; and in 
these casual pamphlets he succeeded in leaving behind 
something that has proved durable. For not only did 
he give admirable expression to certain eternal passions 
of humanity, but his genius naturally combined with the 
mordant vivacity of mockery, fine observations and sug- 
gestive reflections. He was a master in the use of the 
proverb, the apolog, and the fable. His fancy was in- 
exhaustible; and beneath this wealth of invention, there 
was a philosophy of life. 

After such an example and such success, the benietate 
was given. The spirit of satire had won a place in Greek 
society. We need not enumerate here the successors of 
Archilochus—a Simonides of Amorgos, a Hipponax of 
Ephesus, and others. But we should emphasize the fact 
that with this kind of poetry there appeared a new ten- 
dency in the public mind. No doubt sarcasm and in- 
solent indiscretion are the personal affair of the poet; 
but the people are amused by it and encourage it for the 
pleasure they take in it; and they show no active disap- 
proval of these intrusions into private life, these im- 
moderate attacks sparing neither the honor of men nor 
the dignity of women. Malignity prevails over the sense 
of propriety. Public opinion is so complacent toward 
slander that it becomes indulgent toward calumny. ‘Thus 
we witness the development of a moral disposition which 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 55 


will be found again in the cultivated Athens of the fifth 
and fourth centuries, and without which neither the 
comedy of Aristophanes nor the mutual invectives of a 
Demosthenes and an A‘schines would have been possible. 

Elegiac Poetry.—Besides the iambic, there is the elegiac 
poetry. Whatever may have been its origin, the latter 
enters into history without any very specific destination. 
It is a sort of discourse in verse, the tone of which varies 
from a harangue to a simple conversation—a discourse 
at first sung to the accompaniment of the flute, afterwards 
simply recited. It seems, altho it can not be positively 
stated, that its natural place was in private gatherings, 
especially at banquets. What remains to us of the 
elegiac poetry of the seventh and sixth centuries, there- 
fore, gives us some conception of the ideas and senti- 
ments, the fears and purposes, in short, the subjects of 
reflection and discussion which occupied the Greek city- 
states of that time. 

Callinus and Tyrteus.—A few fragments of a poet of 
Ephesus, Callinus by name, make us to some extent wit- 
nesses of the anxieties of Asiatic Greece, menaced in the 
seventh century by the barbarous Cimmerians. The 
elegiac verses of 'Tyrtxus transport us to Sparta, at the 
time of the Second Messenian War. Some of them sum- 
marize in beautiful verses, in vigorous and patriotic ac- 
cents, the things that were supposedly said at that time 
in the “syssitia,” common meals at which the participants 
recalled the exploits of the brave and reassured one an- 
other in the sentiment of national duty. Other frag- 
ments of the same poet explain the laws of the country, 
recall to mind that they have been sanctioned by the god 
of Pytho, and boast of the fine order which they have in- 
stituted in the city-state, at the same time commenting 
upon their political and moral significance. It is a mas- 


56 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


ter of wisdom and of discipline to whom we listen; but 
in reading his verses we see in imagination the population 
of soldiers for whom they were written. The poet re- 
veals to us, even better than the historians have been able 
to do, what these people thought and loved. 
Mimnermus.—The elegies of Mimnermus of Colophon, 
composed in the seventh and sixth centuries, picture to 
us the voluptuous life of the Greek cities of Asia Minor. 
Some delicate and brilliant verses recall the fleeting days 
in which these rich city-states, menaced by the ambition 
of their powerful neighbors, the kings of Lydia, forgot 
their fears or consoled themselves for defeats by giv- 
ing themselves over to pleasures. In the midst of an 
elegy which celebrates the charm of youth and the beauty 
of women, a note of melancholy makes itself heard; it is 
the plaint of the aging poet, who does not resign himself 
without regret to the universal law of life. Many of his 
fellow-citizens, in these city-states in which civic energy 
was weakening, must have thought and felt as he did. 
Solon and Theognis.—At the beginning of the seventh 
century the same elegiac form is brilliantly represented 
at Athens by the law-giver and poet Solon, who on oc- 
casion also used the iambic form. This was the time when 
Attica was tending to usurp the place of Ionia, the latter 
having been subjugated by the kings of Lydia. It was 
adopting its manners and its spirit; it was assimilating 
its literature and its arts. In his youth Solon did not 
disdain the amorous elegy; but in the later period of his 
political activity he turned especially to the form which 
lent itself to counsel, to justification of his own laws, and 
to a sort of moral and civic instruction. Like the iambic, 
which he succeeded in softening down without completely 
disarming it, the elegy served to explain his intentions, 
to refute his critics, and to point out the dangers which 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 57 


menaced the state. It is in part his own biography 
which is set forth to us in these fragments; and it is also 
a period in the life of Athens. But this poetry, altho 
inspired by circumstances, abounded in general sen- 
tentious remarks, in good lessons for all times; and that 
is why it was transmitted in Athens from generation to 
generation. Sung and memorized in the schools, it be- 
came one of the elements of Athenian civilization. 

The taste for wisdom imposed itself at that time on 
even the most passionate natures. ‘Toward the end of the 
sixth century the Megarian poet, Theognis, gives us proof 
of this. Involved in the civil discords of his country 
(Megara of the Isthmus), he manifests in his elegies the 
spirit of furious hatred and implacable resentment which 
animated the defeated aristocracy. But he, too, address- 
ing himself to his younger friends, especially to his be- 
loved Cyrnus, whose counselor and guide he must have 
wished to be, endeavors to outline certain rules of conduct; 
and if violence is not absent from his counsel, it is never- 
theless tempered, here and there, in a manner which can- 
not but surprise the modern reader, by skillful precau- 
tions; and even dissimulation is not excluded. <A curious 
mixture, very characteristic of a time of trouble and 
moral uncertainty. 

The Seven Sages. Gnomic Poetry. The Wisdom of 
Delphi.—To the elegy is related the sententious wisdom 
which Greece attributed especially to seven privileged 
men, among whom the poet Solon was included. It was 
a rather indefinite group, to be sure, including different 
names at different times. The least disputed among 
them were Thales of Miletus, Bias of Priene, Chilon of 
Sparta, and Pittacus of Mytilene, all of whom lived in 
the seventh and sixth centuries. Under these names there 
spread across Greece a goodly number of sententious 


58 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


thoughts, either in verse or in prose, for the most part 
precepts of moderation, almost all of them inspired by a 
somewhat assertive spirit of prudence. It was the sort 
of wisdom which the sacerdotal college of Delphi also pro- 
claimed, and which it summed up in certain celebrated 
maxims such as “Nothing in excess” and “Know thyself.” 
It evidently responded to the experience of men who were 
reared in the midst of civil discord and who had wit- 
nessed numerous changes of fortune. Several poets, the 
best known of whom is Phocylides of Miletus, made a> 
specialty of embodying practical reflections of this kind 
in versified formulas, easy to understand and useful to 
retain. ‘These were properly the gnomic poets. 

Melic Personal Poetry.—But during the same centuries 
another form of lyric poetry was ushered in, similar in 
certain respects to the iambic and the elegiac, but dif- 
ferent in that it remained inseparable from singing and 
from musical accompaniment. Still further removed 
from simple discourse, it resembled our songs, admitting, 
as they do, of a great variety of strains and sentiments. 
It seems to have risen first in Lesbos ; but it spread rapidly 
in Ionia and thruout all Greece. 

The Lesbian Poets: Alceus and Sappho.—Alceus 
of Mytilene and Sappho of Eresus, in other words, both 
of them Lesbians, were the promoters of this form to- 
ward the end of the seventh and the beginning of the 
sixth century. Both made use of the dialect of their 
country; they also used analogous if not identical meters, 
and short strophes that never varied in one and the same 
poem, each consisting of a small number of lines or of 
ingeniously grouped members. A very simple air, ac- 
companied by the notes of a sort of lyre called the 
“barbitos,” was designed to lend to this poetry, now a 
delicate charm, now an additional force. 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 59 


Only fragments of their work have come down to us, 
a few rare pieces all the more precious because they help 
us to picture the brilliant and tumultuous life of their 
city-states, divided, as they were, between pleasure, the 
arts, and commerce, and disturbed by civil discords. It 
was no doubt for a circle of friends belonging, as he him- 
self did, to the oligarchical party of Mytilene, that 
Alczeus composed his ‘‘Songs of Love” and his “Songs of 
Civil War”; and it was to them that he sang them. 
Sometimes he expressed, with as much grace as ardor, 
the charm of the ladies whom he loved. Sometimes also, 
in the heat of his aristocratic passions, he exhaled his 
hatred and contempt for a Melanchrus or a Myrsilus, 
leaders of the democratic party and tyrants of the city- 
state; and he called his friends to vengeance. His con- 
temporary, Sappho, introduces us into a society of young 
men and young women who, like herself, seem to have 
been devoted to the cult of poetry and of music. It 
was in their midst that she poured forth, in her varied 
songs, notably in her “epithalamia,” her passionate and 
jealous tenderness, all the emotions of her ardent soul, 
to which her genius lent an immortal beauty. One may 
say that some of the liveliest sentiments of the human 
soul have never vibrated more melodiously than on these 
two rival lyres. The surviving fragments of their poetry 
make it clear to what extent sensibility had become more 
delicate, more vibrant, so to speak, in that elegant society, 
and what refinement of feeling was already associated 
with it. © 

Court Life in the Sixth Century. Anacreon.—But this 
was not peculiar to Lesbos. The same tastes prevailed 
at the brilliant courts of the tyrants and princes of that 
time—with a Polycrates at Samos, with the Aleuade and 
the Scopade in Thessaly, and with the sons of Pisistratus 


60 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 
at Athens. We find proof of this in a few fragments of 


the Ionian poet Anacreon of Teos, who, driven from his 
country by the Persian conquest, was received as a guest 
in one after another of these rich homes. He knew how 
to please these great lords by composing songs in praise 
of love and wine which he sang at their banquets. Less 
fervent than the poets of Lesbos, he seems to have had 
a sort of voluptuous grace of his own, a suggestion at 
once of piquancy and of tenderness, which still makes 
itself felt in the all too few extant fragments of his work.* 


(2) cHORAL POETRY 


General Character of the Choral Poetry. Extant Frag- 
ments.—But this poetry, in a sense private, reserved for 
social gatherings, could not suffice for a people whose 
public life was becoming more and more important. For 
religious worship, for the national and local festivals, for 
the celebration of victories won in the games, for every- 
thing which called forth strong public feeling, other more 
powerful manifestations were necessary. Choral poetry 
alone, by the force of its means and the intensity of its 
effects, could satisfy this need. Its history, unfor- 
tunately, is but little known to us; and whatever its suc- 
cess may have been, the works of its most illustrious 
representatives in the seventh and sixth centuries have 
almost entirely disappeared. Since music and poetry 
were indissolubly associated, the progress of musical art 
in the following period explains why these compositions 
fell out of fashion; and as soon as they ceased to be 
sung, there was less concern about preserving them. Let 

1It is known that the popularity of his poetry was very great. 


The apochryphal collection of poems called “Anacreontics” shows 
that this popularity persisted even to the Byzantine period. 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 61 


us merely note what influence they had upon the develop- 
ment of Hellenic civilization. 

Choral Poetry at Lacedemon.—The first steps in the 
perfection of musical technique brought with them the rise 
of choral poetry and carried the latter beyond the period 
of its infancy. In the seventh century we see it appear- 
ing with conspicuous success at Lacedeamon. No city- 
state, in fact, was better predestined for it; for nowhere 
else was civic spirit so strong or religious sentiment so 
profound. The ancient witnesses tell us of the influence 
exerted by the Cretan Thaletas, one of the first masters 
of this new art. Among the Spartans, thoroly suffused 
with the idea of discipline, there was a sense of order 
and harmony which happily entered into the songs of their 
choruses, regulated by the notes of the lyre or of the 
flute. Terpander was to find a no less favorable recep- 
tion, if we judge by one of his fragments which celebrates 
Sparta as the city in which military valor and melody, 
dear to the Muse, flourished side by side. After him, a 
Lydian named Aleman, who once did not hesitate to 
place the merit of the citharist on a par with that of the 
warrior, enjoyed a still more lasting favor. People of 
all ages took part in these musical performances: choruses 
of children, choruses of adults, and choruses of old men 
sang in response to one another and manifested the con- 
currence of the whole city-state in the same sentiments 
of honor and patriotism. Even young virgins did not 
hold aloof from these festivals; Aleman excelled in com- 
posing for them the choral odes called Partheneia. In- 
portant fragments of one of his Partheneia still make it 
possible for us to feel, in a charming manner, with what 
vivacity and freshness he could express their sentiments 
and his own. 

Expansion of Choral Poetry in the Peloponnesus.—lt 


62 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


was not long, naturally, before the example given by 
Lacedemon was followed in other Greek city-states, es- 
pecially in the Peloponnesus. A contemporary of Alcman, 
the Lesbian Arion, of Methymna, made himself famous at 
Corinth, whither he was summoned by the tyrant 
Periander. His claim to honor lay in his having trans- 
formed into a regular choral hymn the old Dionysiac 
improvisations known as “dithyrambs.” In order to exe- 
cute his compositions, he is said to have been the first to 
organize a circular chorus of fifty singers. His poems 
could not fail to adapt themselves to this form of rep- 
resentation. ‘To the poetic form thus revived and modified 
a most brilliant fortune fell. For while, alongside of this 
new dithyramb, tragedy was developing, which seems to 
have been merely another adaptation of the songs sung 
at the Country Dionysia, the dithyramb itself was evolv- 
ing and making ready to become what it turned out to 
be in the fifth century, one of the most perfected forms 
of musical art associated with poetry. 

Choral Poetry in Sicily and Southern Italy. Stesi- 
chorus.—But already another form of choral poetry was 
manifesting itself in Sicily and southern Italy, which is 
no less worthy of attention. In long compositions, the 
strophes of which were harmoniously grouped in triads, 
the great poet Stesichorus, of Himera, gave lyric form 
to ancient epic legends, chosen episodes from the Trojan 
War, the crimes and misfortunes of the sons of Atreus, 
the adventures of Helen, the hunt for the Calydonian 
Boar, and other analogous themes. And in all these old 
subjects, rejuvenated by song and music, enriched by 
ideas and sentiments which a more advanced civilization . 
could produce, adorned by an art which had at its dis- 
posal a greater variety of colors, and assembled and con- 
densed, finally, in more dramatic forms, acquired a lustre 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT = 638 


and a glory which exalted the imagination. The poet 
of Himera was destined to be one of the indirect inspirers 
of the Athenian tragedy, when the latter, a century later, 
created its immortal masterpieces. 

National Character of the Choral Poetry in the Sixth 
Century. Simonides.—Meanwhile, from the second half 
of the sixth century on, this choral poetry, accepted in 
all parts of Greece and everywhere associated with the 
religious and political life, definitely acquired a national 
character. From this point of view nobody represents it 
better than the brilliant poet Simonides of Ceos (558— 
468), who, by reason of his long life, carries us well into 
the fifth century. A wandering poet, we find him now 
at Athens at the court of Pisistratus and his sons, now in 
Thessaly with the princes of Crannon or Larissa, now 
again in Sicily as a guest of the tyrants Gelo and Hiero. 
His poetry represents the flowering, as it were, of the 
civilization of that time; it interprets all its sentiments, 
it expresses its essential thoughts. Exercising his talent 
in almost all of the lyric forms, Simonides composed 
pans, eulogies, dithyrambs, dirges, and songs of victory, 
to say nothing of epigrams and epitaphs, in which he 
succeeded in immortalizing in a few verses the memory 
of the brave men who had defended Hellenism and free- 
dom against the onrush of barbarism. Endowed with a 
touching sensibility, with an imagination both pleasant 
and brilliant, with an emotional gravity fitted to religious 
subjects, and with a quickened sense of perfection adapted 
to things mundane, he was, among the poets of that time, 
one of the most prolific contributors to that fund of 
useful thought, of delicate sentiment, and of varied obser- 
vation concerning human life which the two following 
centuries were destined to turn to account. 

Influence of Lyrism.—In a general way the lyric poetry 


64 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


of the seventh and sixth centuries was for Greece a great 
school of reflection. If we still possessed its masterpieces, 
we should understand better the various stages in the prog- 
ress of Hellenic thought between the time of Homer and 
that of Aschylus. It was also, to an equal extent, a 
great school of literary art. Thanks to the lyric poets, 
the language acquired a suppleness, a splendor, a variety 
of shades, a depth and a faculty of abstraction which the 
epic poetry did not possess. It enriched itself with a 
new vocabulary, still more striking and more expressive. 
At the same time the art of composition was perfected 
thru the influence of music. ‘The poets learned to con-— 
dense their subjects, to make the most of them by means 
of symmetrical groupings, to employ more intelligently 
the effects of comparison and contrast. And the public, 
on its part, educated by them, acquired a more exacting 
taste, a more alert and more delicately a_tistic sense. In 
this manner the way was prepared for the century of 
f&ischylus and Sophocles. : 


(3) PHILOSOPHY AND THE BEGINNINGS OF SCIENCE 


Birth of Philosophy and the Sciences.—But the general 
intellectual progress is still better attested by the begin- 
nings of philosophy and of certain of the sciences. 

The contemporaries of Homer and Hesiod had looked 
upon the universe with the eyes of veritable children. 
Deeply impressed by the great phenomena of nature, they 
attributed to superhuman beings the play or the conflict 
of forces which excited their fear or their wonder. Ac- 
cordingly, they peopled the world with gods, whom they 
conceived as resembling themselves in their passions, altho 
infinitely superior in power. Thus accustomed to mir- 
acles, they did not think of questioning their authenticity 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT _ 65 


or of disputing them. Little by little, however, a few 
thinkers, far in advance of their times, began to reflect. 
It was in Ionia that this intellectual movement first made 
itself felt. Miletus, a great commercial center, enjoying 
relations with Chaldea and Egypt, known as the mother- 
city of numerous colonies and reputed as the home of 
much of the new knowledge, gave the signal for it. 

Ionian Science. Thales and Hecateus.—Toward the 
end of the seventh century an entirely new manner of com- 
prehending the nature of things made its appearance in 
the person of Thales. Engineer, astronomer, geometri- 
cian, statesman, his title to fame is that of having opened 
the way to a rational explanation of the great phenomena 
of nature. He was the first one frankly to uphold the 
idea that the genesis of the world was something else 
than a theogony; and he dared to say so. Obedient to 
a truly Hellenic instinct for simplification, he conceived 
a primordial substance the transformations of which pro- 
duced an infinite variety of things, and he thought that 
this substance might be water. A rather crude idea, to 
be sure, but a singularly interesting attempt and one well 
calculated to excite the spirit of research. A little later 
a compatriot of Thales, Hecateus, himself also states- 
man, tried for the first time to give a complete description 


of the inhabited world. Geography, which studies the sur-~ 


face of the earth, thus developed alongside of natural 
philosophy, which seeks to explain its formation and com- 
position. And in the process of their development these 
new sciences brought with them mathematics, geometry, 
astronomy, and calculus, all of which served them as 
indispensable allies. 

The Successors of Thales ——Once started, this admirable 
movement, which did so much honor to Greece, was bound 
to continue. After Thales, two other Milesians, first 


} 


we 


66 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Anaximander and then Anaximenes, both of whom lived 
in the sixth century, were animated by his spirit and 
devoted themselves to the same researches. Always fall- 
ing back upon the fundamental idea of a single original 
substance in perpetual transformation, each of them had, 
nevertheless, his own personal views—a notable example 
of the activity of the Greek mind, ever eager for criticism 
and research. A marvelous emulation inspired these 
thinkers. Anaximander thought he was improving upon 
Thales in conceiving instead of water, as the origin of 
everything that exists, something indefinite and illimitable, 
which on account of its very nature would be more likely, 
according to him, to assume all forms by the sole effect 
of motion. This was perhaps merely substituting a vague 
idea in place of an error. Anaximenes sought to correct 
his two predecessors by explaining all life in the universe 
by transformations of air, which, by the way, he con- 
fused with vapors or mists. He at least had the merit 
of thus bringing to light the importance of the phenomena 
of condensation and rarefaction, with which he thought he 
could rest satisfied as explaining the formation of all 
things. We must not neglect to say that he, together 
with Hecatzus, was undoubtedly one of the first to make 
use of prose in a didactic work, and that in so doing he 
helped to press the Ionian dialect into the service of 
science. 

Science and Philosophy in Sicily and Italy. Py- 
thagoras and Xenophanes.—It appears that the Greek 
mainland was not immediately captivated by these subtle 
and profound researches; but they were favorably re- 
ceived in occidental Greece, in Sicily, and in Italy. Com- 
Ang from Samos, his birth-place, Pythagoras, in the sec- 
ond half of the sixth century, founded an institute at 
Crotona in Italy, later at Metapontum. A mystic moral- 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT § 67 


ist as well as a mathematician, he seems to have depended 
upon nobody directly. For him philosophy is especially 
the study of numbers, which in his eyes become the 
symbolic representation and the ultimate explanation of 
all things, of all ideas; and altho he wanders into abstrac- 
tion when he seeks to define the essence of things, he at 
least grasps their numerical relation with a precision 
that is entirely new. For this reason he deserves to be 
looked upon as one of the promoters of arithmetic and 
geometry, and as the creator of the mathematical the- 
ory of the musical scale. Besides Pythagoras, another 
Asiatic Greek, the poet-philosopher Xenophanes, a native 
of Colophon, made for himself at about the same time, and 
likwise in Italy, a name no less renowned. It is to him 
that tradition attributes the origin of the so-called Eleatic 
School. In fact, his poems convey to us the idea of an 
itinerant rhapsodist traveling from city to city across 
Sicily and southern Italy. Their subjects are varied, 
some historical, others satirical, and others philosophical. 
One senses here a fearless and inquiring intelligence. He 
does not hesitate to scoff at the anthropomorphic my- 
thology; and in certain fragments revealing his entire 
system of thought, he affirms the unity of all life, which 
he identifies with God. An entirely new view, which, 
as we shall see further on, was destined to be taken 
up again and developed by the powerful genius of 
Parmenides. 

Orphism.—But while these thinkers, consciously or 
otherwise, were undermining the foundations of the tradi- 
tional religious belief, the ancient religions were coming 
to life again, as stated above, in the form of “Mysteries.” 
Moreover, a certain philosophy was now interwoven with 
this movement. A few men undertook to give to religion 
a theology and a code of morality. Thus Orphism was 


68 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


born, constituted about a new myth of the god Dionysus, 
very different from the narratives of the ancient poets. 
Whatever may have been its origin, it was at Athens, 
toward the middle of the sixth century, that Orphism 
seems to have taken form and consistency in the poems 
composed by a certain Onomacritus and given out by him 
as revelations of the legendary Orpheus. Here he ex- 
posed by means of mythical fictions the origin of evil, 
the miserable condition of humanity, and the means of 
salvation which the religion of Dionysus-Zagreus offered 

to the initiated by the observance of practical rituals and 
of a code of abstinence and purification. Herodotus at- 
tests with what favor Orphism was received by the sons 
of Pisistratus; and there is no doubt that a part of high 
Athenian society shared their sentiments. Nor do these 
sentiments disappear with the period of tyranny. Orph- 
ism becomes one of the elements of Greek culture. 
Its influence will be found also among several of the great 
thinkers of the fifth and fourth centuries. 


(4) THE BEGINNINGS OF GREEK ART 


Importance of Art im Hellenic Civilization—The pic- 
ture which we have just drawn would be altogether in- 
complete if we failed to add at least a few words concern- 
ing the beginnings of the formative arts. No element 
was of more importance than art in the civilization of 
ancient Greece; none manifested more vividly certain es- 
sential traits of the Hellenic genius. And these traits are 
already clearly discernible in the initial period with which 
we are now concerned. 

General Character of Greek Art.—From its first at- 
tempts Greek art, like Greek literature and philosophy, 
looked upon the imitation of reality as a process of sim- 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 69 


plification. In this it was impelled by its instinct for 
beauty, as well as by a natural gift of synthesis. Far 
from losing himself in a complexity and infinite variety 
of details, the Greek paid attention chiefly to the whole. 
This simplification applied at once to forms and to move- 
ments. In the reproduction of forms it tended to lay 
emphasis upon the lines which the eye follows easily, 
rather than upon those which it has difficulty in distin- 
guishing. In the imitation of movements it used for its 
effect the creation of a rhythm, which found expression 
in an apparent or somewhat disguised symmetry. It was 
this profound tendency, happily combined with an under- 
standing of life, which was to result, after the first techni- 
cal difficulties had been overcome, in the beauty peculiar 
to the masterpieces of Greek art. 

Architecture and Sculpture.—Ilt was ceritides from 
the very start, in architecture. Of this we are able to 
judge by the still existing ruins of the oldest temples. 
The Greek temple is an isolated edifice of comparatively 
small dimensions, the sanctuary and abode of a god, him- 
self conceived in the image of man. It presents to the 
eye straight lines, which stand out sharply against the 
sky. Solid on its foundations, forming a well propor- 
tioned mass, it appears plainly from afar, fronted or sur- 
rounded by columns which serve as an elegant appendage. 
In the course of the eighth, seventh, and sixth centuries, 
the way of progress was in the direction, not of increas- 
ing, but rather of decreasing the impression of size and 
weight. The.shaft of the columns becomes thinner and 
longer; the decoration, all the while remaining unob- 
trusive, becomes finer and more elegant. If works of 
sculpture are brought into play, they must always remain 
subordinate to the conception of the architect, and never 
alter the general lines or characteristic plans. Their 


70 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


function is to adorn the pediments and recall the legends 
of the gods. They attenuate their reliefs in the metopes 
and still more in the friezes, so as not to disfigure the sur- 
faces; and they seek scrupulously to respect the har- 
mony of the whole. 

The technical apprenticeship of the sculptor, moreover, 
was much more protracted than that of the architect. 
It is only in the second half of the seventh century that 
Greek sculpture, related by legend to the ancient 
Dedalus, enters into history with the names of some 
bronzists and some workers in marble and clay. It like- 
Wise aims at simplicity and rhythm; but at first it has 
difficulty in freeing itself from a certain stiffness and 
heaviness due to the inexperience of the artists. ‘The 
schools of Samos and of Chios successively achieve im- 
portant advances. Little by little the sculptor learns 
to free the arms, which were at first rigidly attached to 
the sides of the body, to distinguish better the delicate 
curves of the face, and to indicate the play of muscles. 
In the sixth century, when the Cretan masters, Dipoenus 
and Scyllis, came to settle at Sicyon and to found and 
head the school in the Peloponnesus, the process of im- 
provement becomes more discernible. Spurred on by the 
demands of the victorious athletes, the artists apply 
themselves more and more to the study of the human 
body. At the end of this century, Canachus of Sicyon 
and Ageladas of Argos, in spite of the fact that the old 
stiffness and rigidity still persisted in their work, already 
possessed a rather definite knowledge of human anatomy. 
At about the same time the Attic School was born. A 
few pieces that have come down to us, notably the charm- 
ing Corae of the Acropolis, and some funeral stelae, still 
indicate that the Athenian artists were already distin- 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 71 


guishing themselves by a diligent effort to achieve a cer- 
tain elegance and refinement in their work. 
Ceramics.—Modern archeology, in collecting painted 
vases, and in classifying them and determining their ap- 
proximate age and origin, has done much to increase and 
make more definite our knowledge of Greek art. Intended 
for private as well as commercial uses, these vases were 
undoubtedly industrial products; but a certain art was 
quickly introduced into the ceramic industry, and the 
perfecting of the latter makes it possible for us today to 
recognize in this, as in architecture and sculpture, the 
progress of taste. Moreover, it is the same spirit, the 
same tendency, which determines them all. At first 
Oriental influences make themselves strongly felt; the 
oldest Greek vases reproduce, more or less, certain decora- 
tions dear to the Orient. ‘The vase painter seeks to adorn 
with figures or ornaments the surfaces which he is called 
upon to decorate; he avoids leaving them bare. Then, 
in the Corinthian ware, we find him already leaning to- 
ward greater order and elegance, representing rows of 
animals arranged in horizontal strips, one over the other. 
The sixth century happily introduces an innovation in 
the form of vases ornamented with black figures; and at 
the same time we find at Athens a number of genuine 
artists, such as Ergotimus, Clitias, and_ especially 
Exechias, composing freely on amphore and kelebes, on 
bowls and pater, small pictures representing scenes from 
epic poetry, such as the exploits of Hercules and Theseus, 
or the adventures of Ulysses and Ajax. During the early 
stages of this new art the simplification of execution, due 
in part to its clumsiness, is still excessive; it reduces the 
bodies to angular, geometric forms, such as we find on 
the funeral amphore of Dipylon. But little by little this 


72 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


execution becomes more expressive; it succeeds better in 
reproducing life and motion; it gains in charm by virtue 
of its sincerity. Some of the latest products of Attic 
art in this period are already veritable masterpieces. 


(5) concLusion 


To sum up, in the few centuries which we have just sur- 
veyed, Greece had done more than merely outline its 
civilization; in large measure it had already realized it. 
It had constituted states, that is to say, human collectivi- 
ties in which individual and social faculties were able to 
develop under a régime of law; it had established a social 
order composed of citizens united by common sentiments 
and associated in traditional cults. Thru the voice of its 
law-givers it had formulated the essential principles of 
justice. Altho mutually independent, and too often 
hostile toward one another, these states were nevertheless 
conscious of a real fraternity, which was affirmed by the 
great national cults, by the increasing authority of cer- 
tain common sanctuaries, and by the festivals and Pan- 
hellenic games, but especially because they all recognized, 
in their diverse dialects, the same original language which 
enabled them to understand one another. And _ this 
language had already served to express a rich literature, 
which was everywhere admired. In various works, in 
epic poems, in iambics, in elegiacs, in lyrics, and in 
philosophic prose, there was revealed a marvelous flower- 
ing of thought and sentiment, striking manifestations 
of a national genius in which intelligence and sensibility 
proved to be equally powerful. Invention of all kinds had 
emanated from this fund of wealth as from an inex- 
haustible but not turbulent source. A like sense of order, 


INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEVELOPMENT 73 


measure, harmony, and beauty made itself admired in all 
forms of art, according as they developed. At the end 
of the sixth century Greece had acquired a privileged rank 
in humanity. 





PART II 


THE FIFTH CENTURY 





CHAPTER I 
POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 


Distinctive Character of the Fifth Century.—We have 
now arrived at the period in which Hellenic civilization 
shone forth with the greatest brilliancy; for it was 
precisely in the fifth century that it appeared in its full 
perfection. Altho in many respects, of course, it de- 
veloped still further in the fourth century and even in the 
following period, this development did not take place with- 
out bringing about some gradual alteration of its char- 
acteristic features. The fifth century was the privileged 
period in which tradition and the spirit of innovation, 
those two great forces which are ever at work in human 
life, seemed almost to balance one another and by virtue 
of their association realized a most fortunate harmony. 

The Réle of Athens.—In achieving this realization 
Athens played an altogether exceptional role. It is true 
that other cities produced remarkable men at that time; 
but no other could point to so great a number of them, 
and no other brought forth so many admirable works of 
all kinds. Athens is the city in which the great traits 
of Greek civilization, those which have left their imprint 
upon humanity, became most prominent and most illus- 
trious. We have already seen how this city had grown 
in the sixth century. The revolution which overthrew the 
tyrants gave it a new impetus. A democratic constitution, 
tempered by the influence of a still respected aristocracy, 
permitted it to develop its power in the period prior 

77 


78 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


to the Persian Wars. Its victories in these wars 
and its solidarity of action (from approximately 490 to 
450 p.c.) rendered its people the most glorious represen- 
tative of national independence. Supported by a power- 
ful maritime confederation, Athens became, toward the 
middle of the century, under the government of Pericles, 
the mistress of intercourse among the Greek peoples and 
the sovereign of the Hellenic seas. In this material pros- 
perity its genius unfolded magnificently; thru its states- 
men, its poets, its historians, its thinkers, and its artists, 
it succeeded in becoming an incomparable model of in- 
telligence and beauty. 

Nevertheless, its political organization proved insuffi- 
cient to overcome the formidable difficulties which soon 
rose before it. The force of circumstances set it at 
variance with Sparta, whose power was almost equal to 
its own. In a war lasting twenty-eight years (432-404 
B.c.) and abounding in catastrophes, it gave evidence of 
a remarkable energy, but it did not succeed in providing 
against its own defects. This sharp rivalry carried it 
finally into a disaster which was of fatal consequence to 
all Greece. The result of its defeat was the creation 
among the Greek cities of a state of irremediable division, 
which culminated in the subjection of all of them to the 
domination of Macedonia. For the moment let us give 
our attention to that Athenian democracy the role of 
which we have just defined. 


(1) THE ATHENIAN DEMOCRACY 


Achievement of the Athenian Democracy.—By virtue 
of its merits and its defects, the Athenian democracy is 
one of the most interesting political experiments in all 
history. We have already seen how it was constituted 


POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 79 


by Clisthenes, in 507 3. c.; but not until after the second 
Persian War did it succeed in organizing itself, first under 
the influence of Themistocles, then under Pericles and his 
associate Ephialtes. After about 460 3.c., when the 
authority of the Areopagus had declined, we may say 
that it had realized its basic principles in all their signifi- 
cance. 

The popular sovereignty was absolute. All powers 
were vested in the people, that is to say, in the general 
body of citizens, who exercised them directly, or very 
nearly so. It was in fact the Assembly, composed of all 
the citizens, which decided on everything, either imme- 
diately or in the last resort. There was no check against 
its authority. If it wished to modify the laws, it in- 
structed a commission to propose new ones, which it 
accepted or rejected according to its pleasure. As for the 
conduct of business, it regulated everything by de- 
crees. It is true that a Council of Five Hundred was 
charged with examining the decrees beforehand and with 
revising them; but its power did not go beyond that and 
consequently did not in any way restrict that of the 
Assembly. The Council, furthermore, was elected by lot 
and was renewed every year. In actual practice, there- 
fore, the power of making laws, as also for the most part 
the power of negotiation and administration, belonged to 
the Assembly. ‘The latter also possessed judicial power, 
altho it exercised this power directly, to be sure, only in 
cases of particularly grave charges involving the safety 
of the state. In ordinary cases it delegated its power to 
the courts; but the latter, each of them composed of 
several hundred citizens chosen by lot, were after all 
scarcely more than fractions of the Assembly. Nothing 
could have resembled less a judiciary body, at the same 
time possessing its spirit, its traditions, and the prestige 


80 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


derived from special training. Moreover, the sovereign 
Assembly was constantly at work. It met regularly 
several times a month, and besides that whenever it was 
convoked for an extraordinary session, either by a com- 
mission of the Council of Five Hundred charged with this 
duty or by the Generals (strategi). At all times, as a 
matter of fact, it had to be ready to declare its will, since 
everything depended upon it. 

The same principles applied to the tribes and to the 
demes, and in general to all regularly constituted groups 
of citizens. Each of these bodies, political or religious, 
governed itself on the sole condition that it was not to 
encroach upon the rights of the state. Each of them 
drew up its own laws or regulations; each made its own 
decisions and controled their execution. It was an es- 
tablished idea of the Athenian people that every collec- 
tivity was the best judge of its own interests. 

Public Offices and Services.—Such a system of govy- 
ernment did not admit of officials, properly speaking. 
Every public office was only a temporary commission, 
generally of one year’s duration and always revocable. 
In no case did a public charge belong to any one man. 
Moreover, almost all functions were assigned by lot, so 
that any citizen whatsoever, provided he was in full pos- 
session of his rights, had as much chance as any other of 
occupying, in his turn, this or that office. This was in 
line with the most democratic conception of equality. It 
was also, no doubt, a precaution taken against personal 
or collective influences; and perhaps, too, it was thought 
that this chance designation was least likely to inflate 
with pride the persons on whom it fell. Only a few special 
functions calling for a very definite type of ability— 
for example, those of strategi—were entrusted to elected 
citizens; but even they were named only for a strictly 


POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 81 


limited time, and the people always reserved the right to 
recall them or to replace them as soon as their services 
were found to be no longer satisfactory. 

Aside from these reserved functions, it is clear that one 
could not expect to find any special competence in the 
persons on whom the lot fell. As a matter of fact, their 
functions were reduced to executive measures in which 
there was scarcely any variation, or which were clearly 
defined in the decrees to be executed. A little practical 
sense, accordingly, was all that was required to carry 
them out correctly. What, then, was the custom in case 
of work calling for technical knowledge? In such in- 
stances the people or the interested collectivity chose 
commissioners, upon whom they conferred definite powers. 
In both cases, however, they were bound to render an 
account at the expiration of their charge or commission; 
for the principle of personal responsibilty applied to 
everybody. Naturally, individual responsibility varied 
in importance according to the nature of the duties im- 
posed. 

Government. The Orators——If in this organization 
the people governed everything, who, one may ask, 
governed the people? For it is certain that no assembly 
in the world has ever governed effectively. The Athen- 
ian people passed on proposals which were laid before 
them, but it was necessary for these proposals to be 
presented and explained to them and to be discussed be- 
fore them; and every policy, in order to become one, 
had to be conceived and executed by a small number of 
capable men. In other words, the Athenian democracy 
could not have functioned without the intervention of 
persons whom it called “leaders of the people” 
(demagogs)—a designation which would now have no 
unpleasant significance if it had always retained its true 


82 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


meaning. These “leaders of the people” had no means 
of influence other than persuasion. Athens, therefore, 
could not get along without orators, and there more than 
anywhere else the skillful orator had a chance of gaining 
political power and influence. His task was both diffi- 
cult and perilous. Addressing an Assembly which had 
neither well established traditions nor precise knowledge 
regarding most of the matters that came up for considera- 
tion, he had to instruct his hearers, to set forth clearly the 
advantages and disadvantages of the projects under dis- 
cussion, and to point out their relation to general views, 
and also to arouse sentiments favorable to his ideas. 
Thus he entered very seriously upon his responsibility ; for 
if his proposition violated some law, he exposed himself to 
a charge of illegality, entailing the loss of his ciyic rights 
and a runinous fine. And even without that, he risked at 
the very least the loss of his reputation or some perfidious 
imputation on the part of his adversaries before a crowd 
quick to suspect evil designs. 

The Administration of Pericles and His Successors. 
—The administration of Pericles showed by a striking ex- 
ample what use a superior man could make of these 
institutions; but it also revealed the dangers to which he 
was exposed. Combining an extensive training and 
knowledge of affairs with an inborn prudence and per- 
spicacity, power of reflection, and quickness of judgment, 
in addition to a spirit of decision, a commanding char- 
acter, and a power of eloquence, he exercised a sort of 
personal domination over the Athenian people for a 
period of thirty years. Enlightened and guided by him, 
the Athenian democracy gave proof of logical progress 
in ideas and of constancy in action. It succeeded in out- 
lining a policy at once energetic and prudent, inspired by 
ambition, it is true, but by an ambition which was not 


POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 83 


lacking in grandeur and which was restrained, when 
necessary, by a sense of moderation. It was distinguished 
especially by a knowledge of everything which embellished 
human life. It was truly a beautiful spectacle. But 
this domination, entirely personal and always in danger, 
sometimes had to defend itself by questionable means; 
and it culminated in a misfortune which revealed its 
fragility. Moreover, it remained an exceptional condi- 
tion; and altho we may justly do honor to the Athenian 
democracy because of it, it would be an excess of indul- 
gence to judge that democracy solely by a success of such 
short duration. 

After the death of Pericles there is no doubt that the 
Athenian people were still successful in turning their 
remarkable qualities to account. In the course of the 
Peloponnesian War their constancy was much to be ad- 
mired. At that time we see them facing severe trials 
with no signs of weakening, skillfully taking advantage 
of certain circumstances, valiantly reorganizing their 
forces after the disastrous Sicilian Expedition, and for 
a long time resisting implacable and formidable enemies 
—in a word, disputing the victory to the last moment. 
But what they manifestly lacked was wise management 
and moderation in the conduct of affairs. Replacements 
of persons in office—which are not peculiar to any form 
of government—had special consequences there, leading, 
as they did, to sudden changes of foreign policy and to 
risky enterprises. Besides this there were defeats suf- 
fered by the generals, internal revolutions, as well as 
discontent and defections on the part of the members 
of the maritime confederation. These, then, are the de- 
fects and reverses which it is necessary to balance with 
the merits and successes. Both are in large measure 


explained by the qualities, good and bad, of the Athenian 


84 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


constitution, A few observations will set this forth more 
clearly. 

Civic Spirit—It is certain that the participation of 
all the citizens in the government had the effect of de- 
veloping and maintaining a civic spirit among the popu- 
lar masses. It was almost impossible for a man called 
daily to deliberate upon matters of common interest not 
to sense their importance. A considerable part of the 
citizen’s leisure time was taken up by public life. As a 
member of a deme, of a tribe, of one or several religious 
associations, and as a judge, magistrate or commissioner, 
and in any case in the Assembly or occasionally in the 
Council of the Five Hundred, the Athenian felt himself 
an active member of a collectivity with the prosperity 
of which his own welfare was closely bound up. Obliged 
to listen to the proposals or the reports of commis- 
sioners and to the speeches of orators, and to form an 
opinion on each subject brought up for discussion, he 
could scarcely fail to acquire a certain adeptness in public 
affairs, a certain practical knowledge of men and of 
things. Thus his political intelligence was formed and 
his attachment to the city-state was strengthened. Such 
a people, well directed, was necessarily more capable than 
any other of wisdom and of patriotism. 

But no quality, natural or acquired, has ever brought 
it about that the masses could do without an intellectual 
aristocracy or protect themselves always against their 
own mistakes. The democratic evolution had left no in- 
strumentality at Athens to counter-balance the will of 
the people. On the other hand, it was difficult for the 
democracy, organized as it was, to have real statesmen 
as leaders. An extensive and solid education was rare at 
that time; and those who had the best chance of gaining 
one often found themselves removed from the conduct of 


POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 85 


affairs and thrown back into a disdainful or blindly 
hostile opposition. 

The Athenian Conception of Liberty.—This situation 
was due chiefly to the manner in which liberty was con- 
ceived by the Athenian people. It was not based for them, 
as it is for us, upon the notion of the rights of men, that 
is to say, on respect for the human personality. Indeed, 
how could such a sentiment have existed in a society which 
regarded slavery as a natural fact? Liberty, not alone 
for the Athenians, but for the Greeks in general, was a 
privilege, the privilege of the citizen. It consisted essen- 
tially in participation in the government and in equality 
before the law. It did not involve any positive limitation 
of the rights of the State. With respect to this the 
Athenian people had no precise idea. 'To them it seemed 
just for a man to be condemned to ten years of exile with- 
out having been permitted to speak in his own behalf, even 
without having been placed directly on trial, simply be- 
cause he was suspected by a majority of his fellow- 
citizens; or again, it was not unusual for a citizen to be 
banished or condemned to death because his religion in- 
volved ideas other than those of the masses, and he 
professed them. Equality, on the other hand, was under- 
stood and practiced in a singular manner. The rich, 
or those who were regarded as such, were subject to 
contributions, not regulated and proportional, but arbi- 
trarily imposed under the name of liturgies and often 
excessive. Accused by persons who made a business of 
it, and scarcely able to count upon the impartiality of the 
popular tribunals, they often found themselves obliged 
to purchase the silence of their adversaries. Such 
abuses, even if we assume that they were not of very 
frequent occurrence, could not fail to create in the 
classes most affected an animosity which was always 


86 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


dangerous and became even more so at the time of crises. 
They had the effect of keeping these classes in a perpetual 
state of distrust and discontent, and often even trans- 
formed them into conspirators. 

Difficulties of Constitutional Opposition. Revolutions. 
—What contributed the most to this state of affairs, 
however, was the difficulty met by an opposition party 
in carrying out any effective plan of action. No doubt 
every individual, by means of certain arrangements, could 
freely express his opinions before the Assembly; but even 
supposing that one obtained a hearing, his chances of 
success were often slight. ‘The majority of modern democ- 
racies find their equilibrium in the play of political parties, 
which succeed one another in the control of the govern- 
ment; but this is possible only if the government consists 
of a grouping of codrdinated and well defined powers. 
As we have just seen, however, the only real power at 
Athens was that of the Assembly; there was no supreme 
magistracy, nothing analogous to a cabinet of ministers 
for directing the conduct of affairs. Under these condi- 
tions no oratorical success assured a party even of the 
minimum of continuous action which it would have re- 
quired to gain its ends. It was necessary to win as many 
victories as there were deliberations. How, then, was it 
possible to pursue a far-sighted policy based upon a 
crystallized public opinion, a policy which could be 
realized only gradually and to an extent which only time 
and experience could determine? 

All this explains the attitude of the Athenian aristo- 
cratic party in the fifth century. Until about 450 zB. c. 
we witness this party, supported by the personal au- 
thority of some of its leaders, such as Cimon, trying to 
combat a policy which tended to make the people as such 
omnipotent. Between 450 and 430 3.c. it is against 


POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 87 


Pericles personally that the same party directs its attack; 
at every turn it combats his proposals, up to the sentence 
of exile pronounced against its leader, the statesman 
Thucydides of Alopece. Once he is out of the way, 
everything is reduced to oratorical skirmishing, pam- 
phleteering, and attempted impeachments. But accord- 
ing as the opposition becomes more aware of the small 
value of the constitutional means of action, it resorts 
more and more to other means outside the constitution. 
It was at this time that the “societies of friends,” or 
hetairia, were organized, at first mere gatherings of 
malcontents, which circumstances combined to make the 
hotbeds of conspiracies. Then come the sorrowful crises 
of the Peloponnesian War; and thereafter on two occa- 
sions, first in 411 3. c. in the midst of the difficulties and 
moral depression following the disaster in Sicily, and 
again in 404 n.c. after the capture of Athens by 
Lysander, the oligarchical reaction breaks forth with 
violence. It is the explosion of a long suppressed exas- 
peration, the vengeance of a humiliated class which gives 
free vent to its resentment. Because it did not succeed in 
doing full justice to all the elements of the city-state, 
the democracy, without suspecting what was in the air, 
produced this tyranny, which suddenly broke loose. 
The Democracy and the Maritime Confederation.— 
Another mistake the democracy made was in organizing’ 
_ the maritime confederation. When the Greek inhabitants 
of the islands, freed from the Persian yoke, had come to 
Athens, they were received there as allies and consequently 
as equals. The occasion was opportune for constituting 
a Hellenic confederation, which in the long run would per- 
haps have been able to attract to it almost all the peoples 
of Greece. In order to do this, however, it would have 
been necessary for each city-state in this confederation 


88 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


really to preserve its independence. Nothing of the kind 
happened. The Athenian people, accustomed to un- 
limited power, could not for an instant entertain the idea 
of a federal government in which they would have had 
only a limited share of influence. Thus we have the 
spectacle of a city-state, that is to say, a popular as- 
sembly, governing other city-states from afar, and not 
only compeling them to pay taxes which it alone deter- 
mined, but calling before its tribunals all the federal 
cases and intervening in their party disputes. ‘Thus the 
Athenian democracy was transformed into an imperial 
power, obliged to maintain itself by the employment of 
military and naval forces which its subjects paid for 
but which it alone commanded. 

Physiognomy of the Athenian Democracy.—These 
inner defects appeared, of course, only little by little. 
A critical analysis necessarily brings to light certain 
features which the ordinary movement of life concealed, 
especially during the brilliant period in which Athens 
found itself developing from day to day. We may be 
sure that the majority of the Athenians of that time were 
proud of their city-state and, on the whole, content to 
live in it. Surely most of them found it agreeable to 
feel that they were being governed as little as possible. 
The one-year magistrates had no difficulties to contend 
with, no exacting duties to perform. How could they 
have abused so limited a power—one, moreover, which 
they were to relinquish so soon? Consequently, they lived 
without constraint, each to his own taste, without any. 
obtrusive interference to fear. Here, then, was a great 
indulgence from the point of view of the customs as well 
as in the application of the laws. People were content 
to make light of things that were punished elsewhere. 
Discipline at Athens acquired the good-natured form of 


POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 89 


raillery. We may recall, as a sort of summary, the 
characteristic judgment which Thucydides attributed to 
Pericles: 


Our constitution (he has him say) is called democratic, be- 
cause it is made, not for the advantage of a few, but the good 
of the great number. Moreover, our laws assure equality 
to all as regards private interests. As for each man’s reputa- 
tion, it is determined by his individual merit; one values a 
man, with a view to public service, less according to his con- 
dition than according to his own worth. Poverty, if one is 
capable of serving the city well, offers no obstacles to the 
humblest citizen; on the other hand, there is no espionage 
whatsoever on one another; nobody accords a neighbor a cool 
‘reception because he indulges in certain pleasures. We have 
no ceremonies here, which, without being penalties, are none 
the less disagreeable to undergo. Thus private life is exempt 
from chicaneries without our having, for that reason, any less 
fear, any less respect, for the laws, so far as the citizens are 
concerned.* 


The orator who thus expresses himself is supposed to 
be speaking in the name of the state at a public cere- 
mony; he can present things only in the most favorable 
light. But the gravity of the historian does not harbor 
the thought that there is nothing serious in this official 
optimism. The appreciation laid in the mouth of 
Pericles, moreover, conforms to the impression left to us 
by all of the existing testimonies. Notwithstanding the 
important reservations expressed above, there is no 
doubt that the democracy at this time had not yet realized 
among the Athenians many of the conditions which 
in any human society favor the development of the best 
qualities of the mind and the will. Athens had the dis- 
tinction of being the first to experiment, with brilliant 


1 Thucydides, II, 37. 


90 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


partial success, with this form of government, of having 
illustrated, so to speak, some of its best aspects, and, in 
so doing, of having given future generations a useful 
example and valuable instruction. 


(2) POLITICAL LIFE IN THE OTHER GREEK CITIES 


Other Greek Democracies——Of the other Greek de- 
mocracies little is known. None of them, however, seems 
to have been distinguished from the type of the Athenian 
city-state by the possession of any very original institu- 
tions. ‘Those of the islands of the maritime confeder- 
ation, at Samos, Chios, and Lesbos, were directly inspired 
by the examples of the Athenian people and naturally 
felt the effects of what took place at Athens. ‘The same 
parties were in conflict, the same passions were aroused, 
and the same revolutions occurred—with very slight 
differences. In Greece proper the most important de- 
mocracy, after that of Athens, was the Argive democracy ; 
but Argos, always closely watched by the jealousy of 
Sparta, and, besides, only moderately active and occupied 
more with agriculture than with commerce, remained with- 
out expansion or colonization. 

In Sicily, on the other hand, the intellectual activity 
as well as the business activity was great. Cities such 
as Syracuse comprised a population in many respects 
similar to that of Athens. But the necessity with which 
the Greeks of Sicily were confronted, of defending them- 
selves against the incessant menace of the Carthaginians, 
compeled them to maintain a military force which was 
a constant danger to liberty. The victorious generals, 
at the head of mercenary armies animated by no civic 
pride, had very little difficulty in taking advantage of 
the party conflicts for the purpose of gaining power for 


POLITICAL LIFE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 91 


themselves. They played the réle of protectors of the 
poor, and partly by deceit and partly by force they set 
themselves up as tyrants. When their excess finally led 
to their overthrow, they generally retired in favor of other 
ambitious men or of a revolutionary democracy, whose 
acts of violence prepared the ground for a new tyranny. 
Few and short were the periods of internal peace and 
stability. ‘The same observations apply to several of the 
Greek city-states in southern Italy. 

Oligarchies.—F rom the political point of view, on the 
other hand, one can not set any great value on the con- 
tribution of the Greek oligarchies to the development of 
Hellenic civilization. ‘The most important of them, that 
of Sparta, while displaying its peculiar qualities of 
energy, discipline, and constancy, succeeded neither in 
making its preponderance acceptable abroad, nor in re- 
lieving at home the rigors of a legislation which in conse- 
quence of the steady decline of the number of its citizens 
slowly led it to its ruin. Sparta was alarmed by this 
fatal weakening, and as a result engaged all the more in 
the maintenance of its supremacy in the Peloponnesus. 
Jealous of the increasing power of Athens but incapable 
of supplanting it, and wrapped up in traditions and prej- 
udices which prevented it from admitting salutory in- 
fluences from abroad, this city consumed itself in efforts 
which, to be sure, secured it a temporary victory over 
its rival, but at the same time exhausted its forces with- 
out producing anything truly great or useful. Its 
military power, its internal tranquility, its individual 
virtues, were able to deceive some Athenian malcontents. 
The latter extoled its laws in hatred of the democratic 
régime which they impatiently endured ; they admired, not 
without reason, some of its kings and generals. It is 
no less certain, if the fecundity of a people is to be meas- 


92 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


ured by what it has done for the good of humanity, that 
Sparta, as a city-state, remained unproductive in the 
fifth century. Distrustful of everything which it could 
not understand, Sparta was the great obstacle to the un- 
ification of Greece; and we may say that by its very 
successes, far from furthering national expansion, it pre- 
pared, with its own downfall, the destruction of the other 
Greek states. 

Tyrannies.—As for the tyrannies, if in the fifth cen- 
tury they had any share to claim in the development of 
Hellenic civilization, it was only in the occasional pro- 
tection which they were able to afford to literature and 
the arts. But politically they were the very negation of 
order and progress, since they proceeded from the de- 
struction of the laws and maintained themselves only by 
trampling under foot the principles which properly con- 
stituted the city-state. Where the will of one man 
prevailed without restrictions, the term citizen no longer 
had any meaning. At that time, even in cases when the 
tyrant did not use his personal power as a means of 
gratifying his basest passions, those persons who were 
under his domination, having no assured rights and being 
forced to look upon obedience to the will of a master as 
the sole guarantee of their security, were nothing more 
than subjects. If such a régime had become generally 
prevalent, Greece would not only have fallen from the 
position of superiority which it owed to its conception of 
law and liberty, but would have been degraded to the level 
of the nations which it justly described as barbarian. 


CHAPTER II 


CULT AND THE GREAT RELIGIOUS MANI- 
FESTATIONS IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 


Development of Cult in the Fifth Century.—lIf the 
reader recalls what has already been said in regard to the 
place which religion occupied in the life of the Greek city- 
states, he will not be surprised to learn that the brilliant 
rise of Hellenic civilization in the fifth century was ac- 
companied by a no less brilliant development of cult. 
It was, in fact, the increasing intensity of their internal 
life, the consciousness of their power, and the abundant 
resources of some of them, which at that time made it 
possible for the religious ceremonies to achieve a new 
glory by utilizing to advantage the general improvement 
of the arts. 

The Panhellenic Festivals—Unfortunately no writer 
has given us a complete description of the great celebra- 
tions of Olympia and Delphi, and of Corinth and 
Nemea, in the fifth century. We can picture them to 
ourselves only by piecing together scattered testimonies, 
which completely overlook interesting details. They 
permit us, however, to imagine their beauty and better 
to understand their moral effect. 

It was in the fifth century that the sacred precinct of 
Olympia, where until then only a few ancient monuments 
were to be seen, was provided with the majority of the 
edifices the ruins of which still cover the ground there 


today. At that time was built the great Temple of 
93 


94 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Zeus, in which was placed the celebrated statue of the 
god, one of the masterpieces of Phidias. At that time, 
too, were erected almost all the sanctuaries which the 
various Greek city-states gave themselves the honor of 
dedicating to him, either in commemoration of their 
victories or simply as evidence of their piety. Delphi 
presented a similar spectacle. From year to year there 
was a steady increase in the number of these votive 
statues, not to mention the offerings, altars, and treas- 
ures. Each of the Greek peoples had some favor to ask 
of Apollo, some evidence of recognition to present to him. 
Every one of these sacred places, where so much wealth 
and so many admirable works of art were amassed, thus 
became a focus from which, the national genius radiated 
in all its glory. By the impression which they make even 
to this day upon the modern visitor, one may judge what 
impression they must have created when their marvelous 
decorations of art were still there to be seen in all their » 
splendor. 

There, at the time of the periodical festivals, thronged 
the sacred embassies which conveyed the homages and 
offerings of the Greek city-states and their colonies; 
and with these deputations came the ever increasing 
multitude of onlookers. Never had rivalry been more 
intense among those who took part in these competitions. 
Before this immense gathering an unparalled emulation 
inspired the athletes to display, in the various gymnastic 
exercises, those physical qualities which the Greeks looked 
upon almost as virtues. It is well known how the glory 
of the victors, acclaimed by an enthusiastic multitude, 
was afterwards celebrated in their native states. And 
what aroused the ancient Greeks even more than the 
games in the stadium were the chariot races, which at 
that time seem to have acquired an importance com- 


CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 95 


mensurate with the increase of wealth. The victories of 
the Sicilian princes, Hiero of Syracuse and Theron of 
Agrigentum, those of the King of Cyrene, Arcesilaus, 
and others, are known to us thru the poems of Simonides, 
Pindar and Bacchylides, who celebrated them in magnifi- 
cent verses. ‘The Thessalian nobles, on their part, proud 
of their renowned horses, ardently disputed the prizes in 
these Olympian or Pythian, Isthmian or Nemean contests, 
which according to the expression of Horace “raised. 
mortals to the rank of gods.” Moreover, the. aristo- 
crats of the republic themselves, notably those of Athens, 
were far from showing lack of interest in these prizes. 
Various writers make known to us the names of rich 
Athenians who, at different times, had sought and obtained 
them. In particular we may mention the renowned Alci- 
biades, who was one day proud of displaying an unusual 
pomp at Olympia and carried away as many as three 
prizes at a single festival. 

The intellect, moreover, also played its part in these 
festivals. In the fifth century, in fact, we witness the 
introduction of the use of recitations. Without mention- 
ing the rhapsodists, the masters of oratory and dialectic, 
whose instruction was at that time an entirely new thing, 
the philosophers and historians attended in order to 
deliver lectures or to read a few pieces before the bene- 
volent listeners whom they were sure to find in these great 
assemblages. In this way useful exchanges of ideas were 
brought about. Men became acquainted with one an- 
other and with the new things of the day; and the rela- 
tions thus established tended in some measure to relieve 
the excessive particularism of the Greek city-states. 

Festivals of the City-states. Preeminence of the 
Athenian Festivals.—Like the Panhellenic festivals, many 
others restricted either to the different states or to 


96 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


cities or market-towns, were sanctified, so to speak, by 
some beautiful religious legends, and increased in impor- 
tance and splendor in the fifth century. Among them, 
those of Athens deserve especially to be mentioned; for 
not only were they everywhere recognized as the most 
pleasing to the eye, the best ordered, and the most worthy 
of the gods, but it was also to them that the largest num- 
ber of foreigners was attracted. Moreover, the admira- 
tion which they called forth caused them to be imitated 
in many places. It was notably at Athens that the 
theatrical performances acquired the character which 
gradually came to be adopted everywhere. From the 
middle of the sixth century the state had taken over the 
direction of them; and the example set by Pisistratus 
and his sons was followed by the democracy of the fifth 
century. The Assembly regarded it as one of its most 
serious duties to insure the good organization of the offi- 
cial ceremonies. It regulated them by means of decrees, 
the execution of which was effected by the tribes. Upon 
the latter, as a matter of fact, it devolved to designate 
those of their richest members who were to bear a portion 
of the expense and to take charge of the necessary prep- 
arations. The persons thus designated became morally 
responsible to their tribe for the success of the ceremony, 
and to a certain extent they were responsible also to the 
people as a whole. They incurred the disfavor of the 
public if they exposed themselves to a charge of parsi- 
mony or of negligence. Since all the festivals, or nearly 
all of them, had the form of competitions, the instinctive 
desire, strong in the Greeks of that time, to surpass 
others, entered into play among them all. Men outdid 
themselves in order to outdo their rivals. 

Some Great Athenian Festivals —These Athenian fes- 
tivals were numerous. There was scarcely a month in 


CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 97 


the year which did not have its celebrations of one kind 
or another. The most important of them, and at the 
same time the most representative of the civilization of 
the fifth century, were the Panathenaa, the Anthesteria, 
the Greater Dionysia, the Lenwa, and the Eleusinia. 

The Panathenaea was in a sense the national festival 
of Athens, that in which the city commemorated the an- 
niversary of its birth and paid solemn homage to its 
ancestral goddess. We have already mentioned the 
rhapsodic recitations which in the sixth century became 
one of the principal elements of this festival and helped 
to preserve the character of the ancient epic poetry as 
an institution always rich in influence and instruction. 
But what undoubtedly constituted the principal attrac- 
tion in the fifth century was the procession, the memory 
of which is immortalized in the celebrated frieze of the 
Parthenon. Thanks to the conception of Phidias, and 
perhaps also to his chisel, we still see here the idealized 
representation of the city-state, its people marching in 
good order to bring to the goddess their homage and 
offerings. Here we behold old men of the nobility, 
vigorous ephebes mastering their ardent steeds, and 
virgins and women in the natural grace of their postures 
and movements. Nothing could impress upon our minds 
more strongly the great wealth of order, of innate har- 
mony, and of serene beauty contained in the Athenian 
religion. 

The Eleusinia were of an entirely different character 
and manifested another aspect of this religion. The 
procession which went on foot from Athens to Eleusis, 
to the sanctuary of Demeter and Kora (Persephone) 
renewed the rites of an ancient agrarian cult the primi- 
tive significance of which was profoundly modified. 'The 
sentiments which animated the initiates and those who 


98 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


aspired to the initiation, have been defined above. They 
all went to seek, in this sacred place, hope for another 
life. In the rites which they observed were features in 
which the former rural nature of the festival was clearly 
discernible; but the new ideas had done away with all this 
and everywhere had injected added beauty. This was to 
be seen in the column of armed ephebes who accompanied 
the procession; it was apparent especially in the new 
monuments the rise of which Eleusis witnessed in the fifth 
century, in particular the Hall of Initiation (Teles- 
terion), one of the architectural masterpieces of the time. 

The Anthesteria, the Dionysia, and the Lenea all 
centered their attention upon one and the same god, 
Dionysus, who at that time, in the Olympus of the fifth 
century, had become a personage of the first importance. 
The truth is, numerous cults were to some extent founded 
upon another cult in order to give him this importance; 
and under a single name homage was paid to various 
gods and goddesses whose identity was no longer dis- 
tinguished. ‘This explains how a single cult could present 
very diverse aspects. Joy was mixed with sorrow; 
drunkenness, sensuality, and ribaldry with enthusiasm, 
with a noble and generous exaltation, and with pity. 
It was this mixture of elements which rendered the cult 
so remarkably productive of creative inspirations. In the 
Anthesteria there existed curious and naive rites which 
are especially interesting for: the history of religions, 
but which we may here overlook. It is the Dionysia 
and the Lenea which attract our attention above all, 
for with these festivals are associated some of the fore- 
most manifestations of the Hellenic genius. 

Dionysiac Lyrism of the Fifth Century.—One of the 
most brilliant of these manifestations was the dithyramb, 
the origins and first developments of which we have al- 


CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 99 


ready outlined. This lyric form appears in full bloom 
again in the fifth century, and we find it associated pre- 
cisely with the cult of Dionysus at Athens. The testi- 
monies inform us that it was sung at the City Dionysia 
by choruses which competed among themselves. On the 
other hand, we know that the most celebrated poets, 
Bacchylides and Pindar, preceded by Simonides, com- 
posed poems for these competitions, some fragments of 
which have come down to us. ‘Toward the end of the same 
century, moreover, the innovators in musical art, Philox- 
enus and Timotheus, adapted the same form to their new 
conceptions. At that time the dithyramb rivaled the 
nome, which, more serious and more purely religious, 
had always been associated with the cult of Apollo; 
and in this sort of rivalry between two forms and two 
divine patrons it seems that Dionysus tended to get 
the upper hand. These lyric representations charmed the 
Athenian public. To meet their desires Pericles had 
the Odeum constructed, the first theater to be consecrated 
especially to musical performances. Since music and 
song were looked upon as essential parts of the common 
education, everybody in Athens had at least some con- 
ception of them. Moreover, in the competitions between 
the tribes there were, besides the choruses of adults, also 
choruses of children, who likewise took part, so the an- 
cient testimonies give us to understand, in the ceremonies 
of the City Dionysia. 

The Drama: its Diverse Forms.—Nevertheless, among 
the elements of the Dionysiac festivals none was equal in 
value to the drama. It was in its theatrical productions, 
indeed, that Athens in the fifth century revealed most 
clearly the originality of its genius. In the two essential 
types of the dramatic form, tragedy and comedy, it 
produced works which immediately became models and 


100 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


which since that time have not ceased to command 
admiration. Both created in the preceding century, 
tragedy and comedy had not been slow to win public 
favor and to secure the patronage of the state. From 
586 B.c. on, the latter instituted competitions among 
the tragic poets, among whom Thespis stood forth con- 
spicuously at that time. At the beginning of the fifth 
century the comic poets, in their turn, were invited to 
compete for a prize especially reserved for their art; 
and from that time on, it seems, these two competitions 
took place annually, tragedy at first being properly a 
part of the Dionysia, and comedy of the Lenawa. 'This 
distinction, however, was soon modified. Without en- 
tering here into the details of a regulation which varied, 
and which scarcely pertains to our subject, let us simply 
recall the custom observed at the City Dionysia during 
the second half of the century. Every year the archon- 
king, in charge of the official cult, had to choose from 
among the poets who entered the competition, on the one 
hand, three authors of tragedies, each of whom con- 
tributed three plays (to which was added one play of a 
special kind called a satyr drama); and, on the other 
hand, three authors of comedies, each of whom had to 
furnish only one play. To each of these six competitors 
he assigned a chorus furnished by one of the tribes, the 
latter, as we have seen, having designated a choregus, 
whose duty it was to equip and train this chorus at his 
own expense. As for the actors, the manner of choosing 
them, of assigning roles to them, and of remunerating 
them, was subject to various modifications of which we 
need not speak here. ‘The production of these fifteen 
plays required three days. Ten judges, designated by 
lot by means of a rather complicated system of drawings, 
had to pronounce upon the relative merits of the com- 


CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 101 


petitors. Only the one person who was ranked absolute 
first, either in the tragedy competition or in the comedy 
competition, was proclaimed the victor. These few facts 
show clearly how much pains the people took to have 
everything in this organization perfectly regulated with 
a view to encouraging the production of the most beau- 
tiful works. 

Essential Character of the Theatrical Performances.— 
The fact is, the Athenians did not go to the theater to 
find relaxation for a few moments. For them a perform- 
ance was a rare thing, occurring only two or three times 
a year. It was a part of one of their great religious 
festivals. A considerable crowd attended it. All the 
classes mingled there, and on these days everybody con- 
curred in the same sentiments. Before the performance a 
great expectancy held the public mind in suspense; one 
knew that one was about to see something new, the work 
of the most remarkable intellects of the time. Everybody 
hoped that the awaited spectacle would do honor to the 
city-state before the strangers who had come to wit- 
ness it, and that it would be worthy of the god to whom 
homage was being paid. And in the course of the per- 
formance it was inevitable that in a gathering so large 
and so impressionable, but composed for the most part 
of persons of mediocre culture, there should occur 
sudden outbreaks of general emotion, of irresistible en- 
thusiasm, which removed the doubts of the more exacting 
and discriminating minds. Under these conditions the 
impressions received were necessarily more naive, more 
profound, less individual and less reserved, than are 
ordinarily those of the spectators of our day. But in 
order to analyze them a little more closely, it is mani- 
festly necessary to consider the tragedy and the comedy 
separately. 


102 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Tragedy and its Subjects —What was, therefore, a 
Greek tragedy? As regards subject, it was a piece or 
section of the national history. For here there was no 
necessity of distinguishing, as we might be tempted to do, 
between history, properly so called, and legend. For the 
majority of the Greeks of that time this distinction would 
have had no precise meaning. In general, however, it was 
from the heroic age that the tragic poets borrowed their 
subjects; they drew them from either epic or lyric 
poetry, or from local traditions. At all events, the 
people had the feeling that these subjects were related 
to their race, sometimes perhaps to their own city-state. 
The people themselves formed the theme of the drama, 
since it represented the adventures of their ancestors, 
authentic or imaginary. And when these narratives-in- 
action opposed Greeks to barbarians, a national ideal 
appeared to them and filled them with pride—an intel- 
lectual and moral superiority, a sense of justice, a natural 
dignity and humanity. Naturally when Athens was at 
war with Sparta, it was less a Greek ideal in general than 
a specifically Athenian ideal that interested the public of 
Athens and caused its patriotic sentiments to vibrate. 
That is why in those periods of crisis and mutual hatred 
the poets chose legends which were calculated to bring 
out the contrasts between the two city-states to the ad- 
vantage of their own. Moreover, the tendency to discover 
in the past similarities to the present, to emphasize them 
by allusions, and to draw lessons from them, was not 
peculiar to those times of war. It resulted from the 
fact that the history of a people necessarily leads, at 
different intervals, to situations in which analogous senti- 
ments manifest themselves. 

But the subjects of the tragedies, besides being na- 
tional, were also religious. ‘The action which the poet 


CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 1038 


developed before the eyes of the spectators would have 
responded but poorly to their expectations if it had failed 
to show them the accomplishment of a divine will. The 
incredulous, if such there were among them, constituted 
only an insignificant minority ; for to the masses assembled 
in the audience the intervention of the gods in human 
affairs was not at all a matter of doubt. Moreover, this 
public was pleased to have the divine power manifested by 
strikingexamples. Sinceit was ever conscious of the omni- 
presence of this power in real life, and since its most 
constant concern was to divine the wills or the passions of 
the gods, on which depended the good or bad fortune 
of men, no spectacle could interest it so much as that of 
great misfortunes and their supernatural causes. It 
devolved upon the poet to make these causes clear to the 
public, while at the same time they remained hidden or 
obscure to the personages involved in the play. Every 
tragic performance thus conceived became for the spec- 
tators an occasion for meditation upon human destiny 
or, at the very least, for suggestive emotions. 

In order that these emotions might be profound, it was 
expedient for the drama to bring great destinies into play. 
The ancient heroic families, whose dramatic adventures 
had been popularized by the epic poets, were precisely 
what was necessary. ‘Thru the effect of the reversion to 
the past, and thanks to the genius of a few poets, the 
men and the events of these legendary ages had acquired 
more than human proportions. Moreover, tradition at- 
tributed to them passions, crimes, exceptional prosperities 
and hardships. Everything related to them bore witness 
to the hidden power of fate, the secret force of ancient 
maledictions, the futility of calculations pretending to 
elude the decrees of the gods, the blindness of ambition, 
and the snares concealed behind hopes. Such is the field 


104 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


of choice for a tragedy intended to distract the mind 
from vulgar thoughts and to place men in the presence 
of the gods. Nevertheless, everything properly human 
was no less in evidence there. In action or in suffering 
the souls of men were revealed in striking traits. Here 
we see powerful wills striving for the execution of difficult 
undertakings and facing the most formidable dangers; 
we see them standing firm against grief, placing all their 
forces at the service of immoderate ambitions, and de- 
livering themselves with frenzy to the pleasure of ven- 
geance; but sometimes also waxing tender, opening their 
hearts to pity, or recognizing in the destruction of their 
illusions the disregarded laws of justice and moderation. 
In these spectacles, however simplified they were by an 
art which delighted in clearness, there was a profundity 
of religious and moral perspective which has scarcely been 
equaled anywhere else. 

Scenery of the Tragedy.—We can not fully describe 
here the mounting of the Greek tragedy of the fifth 
century; it is necessary, however, to recall certain es- 
sential features of it, notably the simplicity of the scenery, 
the small number of actors involved, and the presence 
of a singing and dancing chorus. The Athenian theater 
never knew the abuse of material means. It appealed to 
the eye only so far as necessary, leaving much to the 
imagination of the spectators, which the poetry was 
called upon to stimulate. Since the actors were only three 
in number, one often saw only two personages on the 
stage at one time, never more than three. All tumult, 
all confusion, was thus naturally excluded. Reduced to 
dialogs, the action could nevertheless be impassioned, even 
violent, if the subject demanded it. But such violence, 
materially simplified, was by its very nature spiritualized, 
as it were; and it was still more so as a result of the as- 


CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 105 


sociation of song and recitation. In the second half of 
the century, especially, the parts sung acquired more im- 
portance in the réles; and the vocal melody, accompanied 
by the flute, served to convey more vividly the anxieties of 
the soul. Thus one drew further away from reality, but 
succeeded better in expressing everything that it con- 
tained. ‘The same may be said in regard to the chorus. 
Having originally been a sort of collective actor, often 
playing the principal part, it acquired more and more 
the réle of a spectator, sharing in the action by the ex- 
pression of sentiments of sympathy or antipathy, but 
without taking any real part in it. In this way it be- 
came especially well qualified to judge the action, to mark 
its various phases, and by its songs to express the senti- 
ments which the poet wished to arouse in his audience— 
fears or hopes, admiration or reprobation—unless it 
served to refresh the audience by brilliant interludes. If 
we add to these characteristic features the slight compli- 
cation of intrigue, we can not fail to be struck by the 
great simplicity of the whole. As often happens, how- 
ever, it is probable that the power of the effect produced 
was inversely proportionate to the multiplicity of the 
means employed. 

Educational Value of the Tragedy.—In any case, the 
influence of the tragedy upon Hellenic civilization in the 
fifth century was great. It was especially at the theater 
that many Athenians learned the history of their coun- 
try; there, at least, it was duly impressed upon their 
minds, since it was actually unfolded, as it were, before 
their eyes. And this history, under the legendary and 
idealized form which it took in the tragic dramas, sup- 
ported their religious sentiment, developed all the in- 
stincts, all the ideas, which lie at the foundation of moral 
culture—the sense of duty, of honor, of devotion, of 


106 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


moderation, and of humanity. On each and every one 
in the audience there was imposed, in the presence of these 
spectacles which represented an idealized life, the recogni- 
tion of ideal values so often obscured in the conflict of 
interests and in the complexities of daily reality. Finally, 
(and this follows naturally), the instruction of the trag- 
edy was also esthetic in its nature. How could master- 
pieces such as the plays of Aschylus, Sophocles, and 
Euripides have failed to sharpen the perception of beauty 
in a public naturally gifted in that direction? How 
could they have failed to make it feel the charm of a 
composition capable of holding the attention, of produc- 
ing contrasts and surprises, and of arousing fear and 
pity by means of unexpected catastrophes? How could 
they have failed to refine in this public a taste and in- 
telligent understanding for poetic language, now bold and 
terse, now rich in shades of meaning, adapted to express 
tenderness quite as well as rage or hatred, as delightful in 
the expression of joy as it was touching in the expression 
of sorrow? 

The Comedy of the Fifth Century. Its Characteristics. 
—If from this tragedy of the fifth century we pass now 
to the comedy of the same period, the contrast seems 
striking. To religious earnestness are opposed drollery 
and profligacy. That a public susceptible of the noblest 
and deepest emotions, capable of passionate interest in 
that lofty philosophy of life, nevertheless enjoyed plays 
abounding in obscene pleasantries and the grossest forms 
of abuse, is a fact which in the first place bears witness 
to the versatility of the Greek mind, but which is also to 
be explained by the history of this dramatic form. The 
comedy was born in the rustic festivals pertaining to the 
cult of the god of wine, at the Country Dionysia. At 
first it was only the festival of humble vine-growers, con- 


CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 107 


sisting of joyous songs, of symbolic processions, of dances 
and masquerades. Dionysus was known as a lover of 
drunkenness, of laughter and gaiety, and of sensual 
pleasures. One paid homage to him by imitating him. 
When this rustic carnival became a literary form at 
Athens, patronized by the state, it had to preserve its 
original character in order not to deprive the god of the 
things that pleased him. This religious reason covered 
everything; it explains why no person was offended by 
words and actions which anywhere else would have been 
looked upon as intolerable. It must be borne in mind, 
however, that the comedy, once admitted to the public 
competitions, did not long retain this original element. 
Not only did it take the form of a work of art by imposing 
upon itself certain peculiarities of composition, but it 
sought to play a political and social réle, to intervene in 
the conflict of opinions, and to pass judgment upon things 
and upon men; and it became a moral force which in cer- 
tain respects might be compared with the press of our 
day, due allowance being made for inevitable differences. 

The Element of Comic Fantasy.—That which first of 
all strikes the modern reader in each of the extant plays 
of Aristophanes, the most remarkable representative of 
this Attic comedy of the fifth century, called the “Old 
Comedy,” is the place occupied in it by pure fantasy. 
Everything here seems to belong to the domain of fairies 
—the action, the place, the people, and the situations. 
The drama may take place on earth, even at Athens; this 
is the case with the Acharnians, the Knights, the Clouds, 
the Wasps, the Lysistrata, the Plutus, and the Women in 
Parliament ; but it may also be transported from the earth 
to Olympus, as in the Peace; it may hover between earth 
and the sky, as in the Birds; it may descend to the in- 
fernal regions, as in the Frogs. Certain personages are 


108 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


gods, more or less travestied; others are animals, simple 
allegories; others, finally, are men and women. None 
of them, whatever they are, is subject to probability or 
to reason. Fantastic projects, comical eccentricities, 
marvelous adventures—such are the ordinary features of 
the plays which they fill with their mad and exuberant 
bustle. In conjunction with them, as in the tragedy, 
figures a chorus. ‘The latter likewise, according to the 
caprice of the poet, may be composed of beings of any 
kind, not only of human personages grotesquely dressed, 
but of various animals, of personified conceptions, such 
as the Clouds, inhabitants of Hades, including the dead. 
Altho the chorus succeeds in saying very wise things, it 
is also capable of disporting itself foolishly, of emitting 
shrieks and howls, of bounding here and there, of insult- 
ing and attacking the personages of the drama, and even 
the public. Between the principal scenes of the play 
one sees it indulging in licentious dances. Finally, as 
a last characteristic feature, it was at certain times cus- 
tomary for the poet to discard the fiction which he had 
created and to cause this chorus to speak in its own name. 
But all this should not lead us to believe that this un- 
bridled fantasy degenerated into confusion. ‘Thanks to a 
skilled art, on the contrary, all these elements of disorder 
were harmoniously organized; and it is truly one of the 
most surprising things to find again here, in this free 
dramatic form, the qualities of order and moderation 
natural to the creations of the Greek mind. 

The Satiric Element.—Moreover, with the boldest fan- 
tasy there was constantly mingled an element of satire 
and consequently of reality. The representation of the 
customs, ideas, and infatuations of the day offered the 
comic poets a rich field of exploitation. How many ele- 
ments of truth were to be found in the majority of the 


CULT AND RELIGIOUS MANIFESTATIONS 109 


characters, alongside of enormous improbabilities and 
drolleries! It was a source of perpetual amusement for 
the sharp-witted public to recognize in the play some of 
the types familiar to it—the foreigner with his strange- 
sounding language, the peasant with his prejudices and 
eccentricities, the petty tradespeople, the shopkeepers in 
the agora, the hucksters of both sexes, the braggarts, the 
blusterers, the simple-minded and the sharpers—an entire 
world of people very familiar to those who bustled about 
the city, whether at the Pireus or in the environs. The 
spectators laughed at them and learned while they laughed 
—just as one always learns by observing life. When it 
was a question of the small fry, the raillery of the comedy 
was neither severe nor malicious; sometimes it even re- 
vealed them as very sensible in their simplicity. But 
when the attack was on men in the public view, politicians, 
sophists, philosophers, fashionable authors, or others, it 
assumed the aspect of a pamphlet in action. And this 
was not merely incidental to it; on the contrary, it very 
often made these biting satires its principal object. From 
the time of Cimon the example in this respect was set by 
Cratinus; and his successors imitated him. All the lead- 
ers of the people saw themselves derided one after an- 
other—Pericles more than any other, and after him Cleon, 
Hyperbolus, and Cleophon. Such plays of Aristophanes 
as the Acharnians and the Knights are above all personal 
attacks. In the last-mentioned comedy, as in the Wasps, 
the people as a whole were taken to task, severely admon- 
ished for their conduct or ridiculed for their stupidity. 
Other plays tended to decry philosophy and especially 
Socrates, or to lampoon the dramatic innovations of 
Euripides. These plays offered severe criticism, which was 
often profoundly unjust, sometimes slanderous, and al- 
ways animated by violent prejudices, but nevertheless sug- 


110 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


gestive insofar as it called attention on many occasions 
to defects which were not imaginary. On the whole, we 
may say, the comedies were well calculated to awaken re- 
flection and the spirit of criticism. 

Dramatic Performances outside of Athens.—The taste 
for the theater at that time was not peculiar to the 
Athenians. Many Greek city-states, and even market 
towns, had their more or less regular performances. But 
as regards the tragedy, it seems that nowhere else was 
there produced a dramatic form essentially different from 
that created by the Athenian masters—not even at 
Syracuse, where AUschylus achieved a measure of success 
similar to that which he achieved in his own country. The 
same does not apply, it is true, to comedy. A great poet, 
Epicharmus, created at the court of the tyrant Hiero, 
and for the people of Syracuse, a form of comic composi- 
tion quite different from that which held favor at Athens. 
The few fragments of his works which have come down 
to us merely serve to show that he combined a keen sense 
of reality with a genuinely philosophic turn of mind. 


CHAPTER III 


SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS 


General Aspect of Greek Society in the Fifth Century. 
The Classes.—Having surveyed the religious and political 
life, we have now to consider the social life, that is to 
say, the relations of men to one another, their manner 
of living and their customs. In this respect there were 
great diversities among the Greek city-states. The 
Dorians differed considerably from the Ionians; Sparta 
contrasted sharply with Athens. But the fact is that 
today Athens alone represents in history what is com- 
monly called Hellenic civilization; and that is why, in a 
survey such as the present, it is permissible to consider 
it alone. 


(1) THE ATHENIAN ARISTOCRACY 


The Eupatrids.—Athens in the fifth century, entirely 
democratic as it had become by virtue of its laws and its 
spirit, still had a noble aristocracy the importance of 
which, from the standpoint of civilization, remained con- 
siderable. It consisted chiefly of the so-called “‘eupatrids.” 
These were the descendants of the old families, who for a 
long time had held possession of the greater part of the 
land and for a number of centuries had predominated in 
the government. Proud of their more or less legendary 
traditions, they carefully preserved their domestic cults, 


the hereditary priesthoods of which could be held only 
lll 


112 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


by their members, even when some of these cults had been 
appropriated by a deme or a phratry. In spite of the 
total loss of their political privileges, these eupatrids 
owed to the antiquity of their lineage, to these religious 
functions, and also to their superior culture, a reputa- 
tion which survived the destruction of their power. More- 
over, a goodly number of them still possessed important 
estates, to say nothing of the movable wealth which they 
had been able to acquire by utilization of the land. In 
general, it was on these estates, rather than in the city, 
that their principal establishments were located. There 
they lived in plenty, surrounded by servants and a clientele 
of poor people who had not renounced the habit of claim- 
ing their patronage. In this way there was perpetuated, 
at least in the rural demes, something of the former moral 
influence of this class. 

The Family.—It was among the eupatrids, naturally, 
that the old customs persisted most constantly, and their 
influence brought it about that the mass of the people, 
by a natural spirit of imitation, got rid of these customs 
only by very slow degrees. The head of the family exer- 
cised in his home a sort of patriarchal royalty, much 
mitigated, of course, by the gradual improvement in the 
manners and customs. In theory, at least, it devolved 
upon him to command and to administer. The wife was 
subjected by law to a legal tutelage, which was trans- 
ferred, in case of her widowhood, either to the oldest son, 
if he had reached his majority, or to a near relative. In 
reality, however, she played her part in the domestic 
administration ; usually it was she who directly gave orders 
to the slaves and superintended the work of the servants. 
Many of the necessaries of life, food as well as clothing, 
were still produced in the home with her active participa- 
tion or at least under her personal supervision. In the 


SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS 113 


city she generally led a secluded life, scarcely ever went 
out save when accompanied, and visited or received only 
women or relatives. It is scarcely necessary to say, how- 
ever, that the restrictions laid upon her freedom of action 
by custom and by law did not prevent any woman from 
exerting an influence the extent of which depended only 
upon the value of her personal character. 

Education.—The education of the children was looked 
upon as an essential duty of the parents, and the law 
itself laid an obligation upon them not to neglect it. But 
otherwise the State did not intervene. Custom alone 
regulated the ways and means. The education of the 
girls depended especially upon the mother ; and in general 
it was apparently reduced to the acquisition of the most 
elementary knowledge and to moral development. Forced 
to maintain a rigorous reserve, and frequently married off 
at a very young age without being consulted, they de- 
veloped their intelligence chiefly by experience and a power 
of observation which sharpened their natural acumen. 
The faults which are frequently imputed to the Athenian 
woman in the comedy and even in the tragedy—frivolity, 
gossiping, childish curiosity, indiscretion, lack of candor, 
a spirit of intrigue—were undoubtedly due, in large meas- 
ure, to the insufficiency of this education. 

The education of the boys was more carefully regulated, 
but was likewise, on the whole, rather simple. Raised 
up to their seventh year by the women, they were then 
conducted by their pedagogs, slaves charged with guard- 
ing them, into some private school; for in Athens there 
was no public school. There they were taught to read, to 
write correctly, and to figure; they were made to learn by 
heart the works of the national poets; they were initiated 
in the elementary practice of singing and of playing the 
lyre. If the “grammarian” who gave this instruction 


114 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


was truly a teacher, he needed nothing more to awaken 
the minds of the children and to arouse their interest in 
beautiful things; for what lessons were not to be found 
in the Iliad and the Odyssey, in the Works and Days, and 
in the songs of the lyric poets? ‘The imagination of the 
youthful Greek developed in the midst of the ancient 
legends; he acquired his initial experience of life among 
the heroes; Achilles and Ulysses were the objects of his 
first admiration. The school, however, did not keep him 
very long. Yet it is clear that in the well-to-do families 
the growing youth prolonged his education by perfecting 
himself in music, by reading whatever there was to read 
at that time—the poets who were not taken up in school, 
as well as the first works of philosophy, history, and 
geography, the manuscripts of which were then already 
circulating in the Greek world. Nevertheless, the need 
of perfecting this knowledge and of organizing it more 
effectively was one of the reasons for the success of the 
sophists, of whom we shall have something to say further 
on. ‘Toward the middle of the century they introduced 
two innovations, dialectic and rhetoric. But hitherto 
the old education had sufficed, in all its simplicity, to 
mould men of high value. At the beginning of their lives 
it had provided them with a basis for sound judgment, 
a strong moral and patriotic tradition, and a total fund 
of knowledge which was sufficient for them. ‘They were 
receptive toward experience and revealed a freshness of 
mind accompanied by genuine prudence and acumen. 

To this development of the mind was added training of 
the body, to which all of the Greeks continued to attach 
the highest value. The child went to the palestra just as 
soon as his age permitted him to do so; and there under 
the direction of an experienced “pedotribe” he indulged 
in a series of graduated exercises which endowed him with 


SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS 115 


strength, agility, physical endurance, and courage, as 
also with a sense of discipline and of rhythm. A goodly 
number of young men passed later from the palestra to 
the gymnasium, where they were given practice in athletic 
exercises. The highest social classes were probably the 
ones which furnished the most athletes properly so called; 
for aristocratic names abound in the lists of victors at 
the great Panhellenic games. We may add that the prac- 
tice of horsemanship was also much in vogue among the 
well-to-do families. 

This twofold education produced, accordingly, both 
robust bodies and cultivated minds; those who received 
its benefits as fully as possible were truly men, in the 
broadest sense of the word. It is surely due in part to 
this advantage that the Athenian aristocracy was able to 
resist for so long a time the causes of disintegration 
which menaced it. It provided the Athenian army with 
its cavalry, and often with its leaders; and sometimes, 
in spite of distrust, it even gave leaders to the democracy. 
The State did not relinquish its claims upon the future 
citizen until the end of his adolescence. Having passed 
his eighteenth year, he entered the class of the ephebes. 
Then he learned the military profession; for every 
Athenian citizen was a soldier. For two years he was 
bound to a service which made a vigorous and trained 
hoplite of him; and at the end of these two years he 
entered into the full possession of his political rights and 
took the oath of arms. 

Occupations and Pleasures.—Once he had become a full- 
fledged man, what was the nature of the rich Athenian’s 
life? An important part of it was given over to his par- 
ticipation in public affairs, liturgies, and official com- 
missions with which he was charged, sometimes against 
his will. Another part was devoted to the administration 


116 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


of his estates. An active master had to supervise the 
management of these, even when he entrusted the im- 
mediate direction to a chosen slave whom he made his 
superintendent. In order to derive any profit from a 
rather unproductive soil, it was necessary for him to keep 
an eye on everything, to oversee and regulate the proc- 
ess of cultivation, to make constant improvements, and 
to watch very closely the sale or the utilization of the 
products. Nevertheless, there remained hours of leisure 
for the landed proprietor, and these he cultivated par- 
ticularly ; for was not leisure one of the privileges which 
set him apart from those who were attached to a 
profession? Hunting, horseback riding, and bodily exer- 
cises occupied him agreeably one after the other. The 
hours of rest were given over to intercourse with friends, 
to walks, to conversation, and some of them to reading; 
for we know that in the fifth century the book trade was 
beginning to develop and that already private libraries 
were being formed. Among cultivated people the exchange 
of ideas was becoming more and more active and interest- 
ing, according as knowledge increased and as a thousand 
new questions concerning science, morality, and politics 
came up for discussion. There was much friendly. con- 
versation at Athens. The people were very fond of social 
gatherings, and most of the rich homes were bounti- 
fully hospitable. Banquets were very frequent; and since 
custom did not permit women in good standing to take 
part in any function in the company of men, the latter 
enjoyed a freedom at these banquets of which they took 
full advantage. In these joyous reunions the wine-cups 
were filled generously, and even licentiousness was not con- 
sidered degrading. There was music, singing, some- 
times dancing; drinking songs followed, each of the 
revelers having to contribute in turn. To this were often 


SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS 117 


added various diversions, such as pantomimes and acro- 
batics; one listened to the sweet melodies of the flute. 
Moreover, it was not uncommon for the participants in 
these reunions, while preserving something of their gaiety, 
to have recourse to half-serious, half-playful discussions, 
wherein the piquant grace of the Attic mind found an op- 
portunity to assert itself. We find charming examples 
of this in certain well-known works of Plato and 
Xenophon. 

Altogether, whatever may have been the defects and the 
prejudices of this aristocracy, it was none the less an 
elite, a particularly necessary and precious thing in a 
democracy. ‘The influence which it exerted in the fifth 
century upon the arts, upon letters, and upon customs, 
was certainly beneficent. It kept the public mind on a 
very high level, and it gave the city-state some of its 
most remarkable men in all branches of activity. 


(2) THE POPULAR MASSES IN ATHENS 


The Middle Class and the Lower Classes.—This su- 
perior class, however, constituted only a small minority 
of the population. Below it from the point of view of 
general esteem, but above it from the point of view of 
effective power, was the populace, that is to say, a 
large middle class and.the lower classes, both living 
partly in the city itself and partly in the surrounding 
country. 

The Country Population.—Attica, in spite of the in- 
crease of its urban population in the fifth century, al- 
ways had a large number of small landowners, who culti- 
vated their own land with the help of a few day-laborers 
or slaves, and who were sober, economical, hard-working 
people. Their attachment to their deme and to the 


118 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


piece of land from which they derived their subsistence 
was equalled only by their fondness for the old customs 
and traditional ideas. Scarcely ever coming to the city 
except to go to market or to attend one or another of the 
great festivals, they participated but irregularly in the 
public deliberations, still less in the functions of the State, 
and in those of the tribunals. In the things of the spirit 
they were but slightly interested, for they had neither 
sufficient instruction nor sufficient leisure to occupy them- 
selves with them. Thanks to the genius of the race, 
however, and to the influences it exerted upon them, they 
were lacking neither in acumen nor in taste. ‘They con- 
stituted the conservative element in the republic, strongly 
devoted to the democratic institutions, but often distrust- 
ful of the leaders of the urban democracy and of in- 
novations of all kinds which the city looked upon with 
favor. Moreover, it was no doubt to them that the 
comedy made its appeal, in the dramatic performances 
which they came in large numbers to witness, when it ridi- 
culed the men of the day or those affectations or liberties 
which ran counter to the accepted usages; but this did not 
prevent it from amusing also the townspeople at the ex- 
pense of this worthy countryfolk, whose rusticity it 
jocosely exaggerated. 

The City Population.—The city, as a matter of fact, 
comprised a quite different population. There people of 
all sorts met and mingled, to say nothing of the foreigners 
who flocked thither in ever-increasing numbers. ‘There 
one saw manufacturers of arms, of furniture, of divers 
utensils; employers and workers in many industries who 
combined the good taste peculiar to the Athenians with 
technical skill. They included architects, painters, sculp- 
tors, goldsmiths, potters, blacksmiths, curriers, weavers 
and fullers, dyers and perfumers—in short, all those who 


SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS 119 


produced the many articles, renowned for their excellence, 
which Athens either exported or kept to supply its own 
wants. There were located the shops where many of 
them worked, assisted by free artisans or skillful slaves, 
while others looked only after the general management 
and left the immediate supervision of the practical 
operations to some intelligent freeman in whom they had 
learned to place their trust. These workshops, however, 
were restricted in size. Usually there were only ten or 
twelve workers, often less, rarely more than twenty or 
thirty. The equipment was very simple; consequently, 
there was nothing which resembled our modern factories. 
Altogether, there was no working class such as exists 
today in almost every country. On the other hand, there 
were a number of small employers, scarcely distinguished 
from their employees, who had very nearly the same mode 
of life, the same habits and customs. 

Like industry, commerce had undergone a rapid de- 
velopment in Athens in the fifth century. In particular, 
the exports of oil and the imports of wheat had given 
rise to a large business activity, productive of wealth. 
Nevertheless, it was rather the small or medium-sized 
business which occupied the major part of the urban 
population. Often the stall or store adjoined the work- 
shop, and the products were sold by the same persons 
who made them; but there were also numerous dealers 
or retailers who sold their wares in the market-place. In 
order to satisfy the needs of these various kinds of com- 
mercial activity, but especially those of big business, there 
arose in the fifth century a new class of men of affairs, 
the bankers, who negotiated either the exchange of money, 
rendered necessary by the diversity of the monetary 
types in circulation, or the operations of credit, indis- 
pensable to exporters. The bankers also set up their 


120 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


tables in the open market in the center of the city, so 
that they might always be at the service of clients. But 
as for the most important transactions, these were con- 
ducted at home. And it was around the agora, too, that 
the barber-shops were located, where one learned the news 
of the day—inexhaustible sources of scandal and gossip. 

Taken as a whole, this populace was notable for its 
vivacity, its ready intelligence, its sprightliness, its pi- 
quant sayings, as also for the mobility of its humor. 
Not entirely free from coarseness, it nevertheless pos- 
sessed, in a remarkable degree, a taste for the beautiful, a 
natural acuteness, and an instinctive aversion to all empty 
ostentation. It was able to appreciate the works of its 
artists and poets; it prized simple elegance as well as 
clever raillery. Accustomed to the transaction of busi- 
ness, it was not lacking in judgment when it had means 
of informing itself. The danger to which it was exposed 
was that of allowing itself to be seduced by arguments 
more ingenious than substantial, by clever speeches to 
which it delighted in listening, and by everything which 
touched its sensibilities or charmed its imagination. But 
after all, between the often backward aristocrats and 
the two progressive innovators the populace constituted, 
im general, the best force of equilibrium which was op- 
posed to revolutions and guaranteed a certain continuity 
ito the policy of the State. 

The Population of the Pireus——The same observa- 
‘tions do not apply to the population of the Pirzus, which 
was more turbulent and less hampered by traditions. 
"There too, no doubt, were great business men, heads of 
important commercial houses; but the majority of them 
were metics, that is, resident foreigners who did not form 
part of the citizen body. The bulk of the inhabitants 
of the Pireus consisted of those engaged in work con- 


SOCIETY AND CUSTOMS 123 


nected with the port, employees of the docks and ship- 
yards, brokers and sailors, with whom were mixed a mot- 
ley crowd of people from across the water—Greeks from 
the Aigean islands and Asia Minor, from Sicily, Italy, 
Syria, Egypt, and Thrace; merchants and sailors from 
Pontus and distant colonies; barbarians from different 
Mediterranean shores—each bringing thither his lan- 
guage, his customs, and his superstitions. In daily con- 
tact with these men from foreign lands, the Athenians 
of the port were themselves imbued with a new spirit, 
becoming more indifferent to the established order, more 
open to changes, and more adventurous. They con- 
stituted the restless element in the republic, thru the 
medium of which many foreign things were little by little 
introduced into the city. 

General Aspect of the Social Life in Athens.—On the 
whole, no Greek city resembled the great modern capitals 
more than Athens, altho it was a comparatively small 
city. One found there the most varied tendencies, all 
kinds of minds, and all types of characters—a thousand 
divergences which not only added something agreeable 
and piquant to the social intercourse, but which at the 
same time, by calling forth comparisons, stimulated the 
intellect, sharpened judgments, and gave the freest play 
to all the faculties. And that is why Athens attracted 
foreigners so strongly. Nobody failed to feel at home 
there; all Greece was represented there—or, better said, 
all the values of the Greek mind were as if mustered and 
concentrated there. 

Slavery.—Even slavery at Athens was not entirely 
what it was elsewhere. Altho the Athenian law did not 
recognize any rights as belonging to the slave, it never- 
theless protected his life; and in a considerable number 
of families the domestic slave, if he was fortunate enough 


122 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


to belong to humane masters, and if he himself was in- 
dustrious, honest, and submissive, could lead a very toler- 
able existence. ‘The ancient tragedies introduce to us 
wet-nurses who in some measure have become confidantes, 
almost humble friends, of their mistresses. Moreover, a 
goodly number of the slaves employed in industry, com- 
merce, agriculture, and in the banks, succeeded by their 
intelligence in making themselves indispensable, in gain- 
ing the full confidence of their masters, who then made 
them superintendents, managers of workshops, and sub- 
directors; and later, having won their freedom, the former 
slaves often associated with their masters in business. 
Nevertheless, the natural vices of the system prevailed. 
Not only did the public slaves who worked in the mines, 
and those on whom the most ardous tasks were imposed 
in the rural districts, have much to endure; but all of 
them, without exception, if their masters were brought 
to trial, could according to the law be surrendered by 
them to the opposing party in order to be put to the 
question. All were liable to cruel or degrading punish- 
ments—to the whip and to various forms of torture. 
Moreover, being dispersed thruout the country and no- 
where in a position to organize their forces, as was later 
the case in Rome, it was impossible for them to revolt. 
Their only recourse when they felt themselves at the limit 
of their endurance was to take to flight at the risk of 
being hounded like beasts and of finding refuge nowhere. 
Finally, force, if not interest, too often compeled them to 
become the accomplices, or the victims of the vices, of their 
masters. The historian has no right to conceal this dis- 
tressing aspect of the most brilliant civilization known to 
the ancient world. 


CHAPTER IV 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY AND WORKS 
OF ART 


(1) PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 


Intensity of the Philosophical Movement in the Fifth 
Century.—In this society of the fifth century intellectual 
activity was very great. We have already seen to what 
extent the enigma of the world had interested the Ionian 
physiologers in the sixth century. Multiplying their ef- 
forts to explain the formation and life of the universe, 
they had brought together a number of observations which 
were the first elements of physics, astronomy, meteorology, 
and biology; and at the same time they had inaugurated 
the science of geography and perfected the fundamental 
notions of mathematics. The fifth century developed the 
scientific work of the sixth century in all its forms, and 
it also prepared the ground for that of the fourth cen- 
tury, the renown of which very nearly obscures its own. 
In the field of science it is natural that those who come 
last surpass their predecessors ; but if one measures genius 
less by complex results, in which it is not easy to discern 
the part attributable to each individual, than by creative 
power, it would seem that the great thinkers of the fifth 
century, Parmenides, Heraclitus, Empedocles, Anaxa- 
goras, and Socrates, were not inferior to a Plato or an 
Aristotle. 


Parmenides and Zeno.—The Ionians, trusting in the. 
123 


124 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


evidence of the senses, had not sought to rise above the 
data with which these senses provided them. None of 
them questioned themselves regarding the fundamental 
conception of existence. It fell to the honor of Parmenides 
of Elea to discover the importance of this problem, al- 
ready perceived but not thoroly investigated by Xe- 
nophanes, his immediate predecessor and possibly his 
teacher. Without inquiring whether it did not transcend 
the scope of human intelligence, he applied himself to the 
problem fervently and derived from it the elements of a 
metaphysics deeply impressed by the great acuteness of 
his mind. The Ionian hypothesis led to the admission, 
for the purpose of explaining the transformations of 
matter, that the latter could be divided into extremely 
small particles, escaping by their very minuteness our 
imperfect senses. But reason refuses to conceive either 
a cubic or a linear measure, which can not, theoretically, 
be divided in two. Infinite divisibility seems to be, there- 
fore, the necessary consequence of this conception. But 
what became of the idea of continuity then? For if the 
particles are distinct, there must be a separation between 
them ; and in order that they may move about, this separa- 
tion must be a vacuum. But without continuity, how is 
it possible to understand the mutual actions and reac- 
tions of these particles? Moreover, this reasoning ap- 
plies to motion as well as to matter. By resolving mo- 
tion into infinity we destroy its very essence. It was 
in the name of logic, therefore, that Parmenides was led 
to deny the existence of a vacuum, that of the divisibility 
of matter, and finally that of motion. Reducing these 
conceptions to illusions of the senses, he affirms that in- 
herent unity of being which is indivisible and immovable 
—except that subsequently he explains the sensible illu- 
sions and coordinates them as conceptions of the imagina- 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 125 


tion. The very boldness of this idealistic protest against 
a reality which he declared to consist merely of appear- 
ances, was destined to arouse in its author a dogmatic 
ardor which was clearly manifested in his teachings. He 
set forth his system in a poem of which several fragments 
have been preserved—a mixture of magnificent visions and 
obscure abstractions, in which there is revealed a superior 
personality struggling both with the material difficulties of 
a language still intolerant of demonstrations of this kind 
and with the incredulity which common sense opposed to 
his uncompromising idealism. 

Parmenides undoubtedly wrote in the first years of the 
fifth century. Zeno, his pupil, made himself even during 
the lifetime of his teacher, and after him, the propagator 
of his doctrine. But less anxious to develop it than to 
defend it, he seems to have applied himself especially to 
refuting, by means of subtle dialectic, the ideas opposed 
to it. The arguments which he presented against in- 
finite divisibility and motion have remained celebrated. 
Again in Plato and Aristotle we find evidence of the aston- 
ishment which these arguments aroused in Athens when 
Zeno had gone there to seek a curious audience. We can 
not doubt that they created a taste for discussion the 
influence of which soon made itself felt in all cultivated 
circles. 

Heraclitus.—Nevertheless, at that same time the Ionian 
doctrine found an illustrious continuator in the person 
of Heraclitus of Ephesus. Persisting, like his predeces- 
sors, in the conception of a primary substance subject 
to a series of transformations, he had been led to believe 
that this substance was fire, which he considered the most 
subtile and the most changing element. The greatest 
innovation in his system, and that which gave it a par- 
ticular beauty, was the eternal rhythm which he made the 


126 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


law of these transformations. In admirably vigorous and 
concise prose, in sententious phrases the very obscurity of 
which conferred a sort of majesty upon them, he told 
how fire was transformed into air, air into water, and 
water into earth, and simultaneously, by an inverse proc- 
ess, how earth was changed to water, water to air, and 
air to fire—a perpetual oscillation, an indefinite succes- 
sion of apparent deaths which were in fact so many births, 
codrdinated movements “upwards” and “downwards,” 
from which resulted a universal harmony composed of 
equivalences and compensations. One readily understands 
that such a thinker, to some extent dazzled by his own 
vision, acquired the reputation, by his oracular style, of 
being an interpreter of a wisdom inaccessible to the 
masses. 

Empedocles and Anaxagoras.—Nevertheless, neither of 
these two world systems, the one founded upon reason, 
pure and simple, and the other upon a brilliant hypothesis, 
could satisfy free minds which were rendered acute for 
criticism. Deprived of practical means of experimenta- 
tion, they sought to make up for it by ingenious probabili- 
ties; and yet in this effort their thought, altho boldly 
disengaging itself from the ancient mythology, always 
took, by the force of habit, a more or less mythical turn. 
So it happened that almost at the same time a Sicilian, 
Empedocles of Agrigentum, and an Ionian, Anaxagoras 
of Clazomene, renouncing, like Parmenides, the concep- 
tion of a substance susceptible of indefinite transforma- 
tions, nevertheless attempted, like Heraclitus, to ascribe 
to the life of the universe an immanent order which took 
account both of its variations and of its regularity. 
Both thought that its principle was to be found in a 
rotatory movement, the action of which they defined with 
the help of various combinations. Empedocles distin- 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 127 


guished four elements—water, earth, air, and fire—which 
were no longer for him, as they were for the Ionians, 
successive and temporary forms of a primary substance. 
Rather did he conceive them as eternally separate and 
distinct substances; and his poet’s imagination saw them 
coming together or drawing apart, one after another, 
under the influence of two other elements of a mythologi- 
cal nature, hatred and love. From this, thru the various 
phases which he described in verses now brilliant and now 
painfully didactic, resulted an endless cycle of integra- 
tions and disintegrations. In this grandiose and com- 
plex work, as in the broad intelligence of its author, all | 
the sciences of the time, even medicine, found their place, 
as did also a number of superstitions borrowed from 
Pythagorean or Orphic mysticism. Following a different 
course, Anaxagoras, possessed of a more positive genius, 
conceived matter as a sort of dust formed of all the ir- 
reducible substances which enter into the composition of 
bodies; and he taught that the principle which set them 
apart by a rotatory movement was an element radically 
distinct from all the rest, the only one which was never 
mixed with the others. This element he called Reason 
(Nous), meaning thereby, no doubt, a sort of impersonal 
intelligence, an obscure force, the nature of which he does 
not seem to have defined exactly, possibly owing to the 
fact that he himself did not have a very clear idea of it. 
So much is certain, at least, that he represented it as 
a creator of order and organization. Himself learned 
and possessed of a passion for observation, he reviewed, 
in a work written in Ionian prose, the principal phenomena 
of nature, making it a point to interpret them rationally 
and boldly discarding all the mythological explanations 
which were still current around him. 

The Atomists. Leucippus and Democritus.—In op- 


128 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


position to this conception of a guiding principle there 
developed the conception of Chance, represented by the 
Tonians, Leucippus and Democritus of Abdera. For them 
the genesis of the world became a purely fortuitous thing. 
They imagined infinitely tenuous, indivisible particles 
meeting in empty space, and called these particles atoms. 
All identical in nature, these atoms differed, according to 
them, only in volume, weight, and form. Carried along in 
incessant motion, it was necessary, in order that the 
hypothesis might be conceivable, for the atoms to collide 
with one another, to aggregate, and thus to enter into 
multiple combinations, whence resulted all the bodies 
existing in nature. Considered by itself, this system, 
while professing to explain the enigma of the world, mani- 
festly did little more than propose a new hypothesis no 
less enigmatical. But in revealing under the infinite 
diversity of effects the possible simplicity of the causes 
and the means, and especially in rejecting everything 
that still savored of mythology in science, it turned men’s 
minds in the right direction, Democritus, moreover, did 
not adhere any more than Anaxagoras and Empedocles 
to a synthetic theory; like them, he applied himself to 
diligent observation of the facts, eagerly desirous of 
relating them all to his doctrine. 

The Sceptics.—In the presence of these divergent at- 
tempts, none of which led to decisive proof, it was in- 
evitable that scepticism should gain entrance into a 
certain number of minds. In some instances we see it 
appear in a modified form of relativity. Such was the 
case with the celebrated Protagoras of Abdera, who taught 
that absolute truth does not exist, meaning thereby, no 
doubt, that every assertion is dependent upon the nature 
of the human mind in general, and further upon the scope 
of each intelligence in particular. In other cases this 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 129 


scepticism went much further, if we are to believe the 
evidences of it in the Sicilian, Gorgias, according to which 
it would seem that the latter taught absolute and system- 
atic doubt. It is confirmed, therefore, that the discus- 
sions of the philosophers did not take place without in- 
jecting some trouble into the world of the intellectuals. 
On the whole, however, it was a trouble which had prolific 
results; for these conflicts of ideas vivified in a singular 
manner the activity of the mind and even led men fre- 
quently to resort to first-hand observation. ‘The incon- 
testable fact is that these efforts of philosophy were 
accompanied by a general progress of the sciences. 

Hippocrates.—Medicine, in particular, was distin- 
guished at that time by a man of the first order, Hippo- 
crates of Cos. Altho it is difficult today to determine 
with accuracy what is properly attributable to him in 
the collection of writings which bear his name, the im- 
portance of his réle is none the less indisputable. On 
the one hand, all the evidences of antiquity agree in award- 
ing to him the title of “‘the father of medicine’; and on 
the other hand, the majority of the writings referred to 
are in any case imbued with his spirit. We owe it to him 
that medicine ceased to be a simple traditional practice, a 
rather confused mixture of sane experience and supersti- 
tions, and began to follow resolutely the course of obser- 
vation and to enlarge the.domain thereof. To define and 
classify the forms of disease, to relate them to various 
temperaments, to study closely their phases, to note 
scrupulously the peculiar effect of each remedy and the 
slower effect of a prescribed regimen, to discern the in- 
fluence of waters, of air, of temperature, of climate— 
such, in a broad way, was his work. All told, it was the 
organization of a method; and from this method resulted 
all the subsequent progress. 


130 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


(2) THE SOPHISTS. RHETORIC AND DIALECTIC 


Rhetoric.—Alongside of scientific philosophy, and to a 
certain extent under its influence, there were developed 
at the same time two branches which aimed at more 
practical results; these were rhetoric and dialectic. 

By instinct the Greek was a talker, an orator, and a 
dialectician. The Jliad and the Odyssey bear witness to 
the fact that a certain art of composing a speech, and 
consequently of reasoning, existed as far back as the time 
of Homer. In the following centuries political eloquence 
gained considerably in experience. To be sure, it was 
not lacking in the statesmen of the seventh and sixth cen- 
turies, any more than it failed the men who directed the 
Athenian democracy at the time of the Persian Wars; 
only at that time nobody was yet prudent enough to 
formulate its rules in writing or to make it the object of 
regular teaching. It was toward the middle of the fifth 
century that some Sicilians got the idea of codifying the 
rules, especially for the use of pleaders. In the first 
treatises edited by the practicians, a Corax and a Tisias, 
rhetoric is presented as the art of winning a case in court, 
good or bad; and it consisted of a body of practical pre- 
cepts and examples by means of which the student learned 
how to lend plausibility to any advantageous argument, 
whether it was true or false. ‘There was something about 
it that greatly attracted people. Then came another 
Sicilian, the same Gorgias to whom reference has just been 
made, a man of an entirely different type of mind, a 
philosopher as well as a practician, who appropriated 
their idea and made its fortune. Not only did he perfect 
their process of argumentation to a remarkable degree 
by virtue of his great discernment, but at the same time 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 131 


by freeing rhetoric he showed it capable of embellishing 
all the forms of public speaking. His ambition was to 
create an oratorical style equivalent in prose to that of 
the poets, with its appropriate ornaments, its rhythm, 
and its effects of skillfully handled words. The examples 
which he gave of such a style called forth an admiration 
which was not due to mere infatuation; for altho his 
manner, in its extreme form, led to a rather puerile verbal 
mechanism, one can not deny that it was of a nature cal- 
culated to provoke in strong and sane minds a concise 
analysis of ideas, which made it possible to clarify such 
ideas and to render them effective, either by weighing 
them off against one another or by relating them by 
means of ingenious parallelisms. 

Dialectic.—This rapid development of rhetoric nat- 
urally called forth a corresponding development of 
dialectic, to which the Greeks were not less inclined. 
The above-mentioned arrival in Athens of Zeno of Elea 
seems to have been an event of epoch-making importance 
in this regard. His method was no less calculated to 
fascinate the Athenian youth than was the paradoxical 
novelty of what he said. It was a rapid, condensed, en- 
tirely logical argumentation, which addressed itself only 
to reason, and which in a few words confounded his 
adversaries. It amused the Athenians greatly to see his 
opponents entangled in his quibbles, and many could not 
resist the temptation to imitate him. He interested them 
all the more in that he touched upon essential ideas, the 
very principles of knowledge, with the result that the 
most legitimate curiosity, the search for fundamental 
truths, was awakened in those who listened to him, as 
well as a taste for this sort of word-parrying—lively, 
brilliant, paradoxical, and well adapted to the natural 
subtlety of the race. All that young Athens needed in 


132 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


order to enter resolutely upon this new course was a num- 
ber of teachers imbued with the same spirit. The oc- 
casion was good; they came to the city from all sides. 

The Sophists.—The young people of the upper classes, 
desirous of taking part in the public life or simply of, 
enlarging their intellectual horizon, until that time had 
had too many things to learn by themselves. Hence they 
now welcomed those who offered to teach them. 'Thus it 
came about that the term “sophist,” previously applied 
to anybody who possessed a rare and special knowledge, 
was thereafter applied to persons who made it a business 
to communicate their learning to others for pay. 

Among these sophists of the new kind, some were phi- 
losophers, others, in greater numbers, were teachers of 
rhetoric, others in still greater numbers were grammarians 
and philologists, some were mathematicians and tech- 
nologists—to say nothing of those who pretended to 
universal knowledge. In this group were men of attain- 
ment, such as Protagoras of Abdera, Gorgias of Leontini, 
and Prodicus of Ceos, to mention only the most cele- 
brated; and there were also some charlatans. ‘These 
sophists were forced by their very profession to lead a 
nomadic life. Athens, the center of the intellectual 
movement, no doubt attracted and held them more than 
any other city; none of them, however, seems to have 
been permanently established there. ‘They found it to 
their advantage not to allow the curiosity of their public 
to grow dull. Generally they condensed in a few lessons, 
for a definite price, what they proposed to teach; and 
they announced, or allowed people to believe, that these 
reduced courses were sufficient to make educated men of 
their hearers. Therein lay the greatest defect of their 
profession. Learning became a sort of commodity which 
could be sold by the piece at a fixed price.. Such instruc- 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 133 


tion, distributed and received at random, could be neither 
very serious nor very profound. And yet, these brilliant 
lecturers, full of new views and suggestions, propagated 
ideas and knowledge which otherwise would have remained 
the share of only a few men. A certain amount of phi- 
losophy, political theory, ethics, and various sciences, 
was thus spread abroad, at first in the upper classes, but 
afterwards in the general public. 

State of Mind in the Second Half of the Fifth Century. 
—As one may surmise, this influx of new ideas did not fail 
to produce a certain confusion in men’s minds. Many 
intelligent men in the second half of the century did not 
know just where they stood in matters of religion or 
even of morality. The Greek mind had need of examin- 
ing itself, of eliminating many antiquated things, of lay- 
ing aside also, at least temporarily, certain investigations 
for which it was not yet ripe; and also, on the other 
hand, of finding certain solid truths and elaborating a 
method for their development. ‘This was a task as diffi- 
cult as it was necessary, since it called for an intelligence 
sufficiently pliant and acute to penetrate all questions, 
and at the same time sufficiently firm to avoid losing it- 
self in them. These rare qualities were combined in 
Socrates. 


(3). socRATES 


The Man. His Vocation.—He was, however, a man 
of only very modest condition; but his natural genius, his 
desire for knowledge, and his ardent love of what is true 
and good, made up for everything else which he could 
possibly lack. Early abandoning every personal occupa- 
tion, and satisfied in his poverty, he thought he heard an 
inner voice confirming the vocation which led him to seek 


134 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


the meaning and the purpose of life, in order to guide 
his own conduct and that of others. Hence this vocation 
appeared to him as the order of a divine will. But far 
from deriving any sense of pride from that, he proposed 
less to teach than to learn; for he wished to instruct 
others only by instructing himself. There is no doubt 
that he had read much, listened much, and also meditated 
much; and sometimes it seemed as if he were lost in his 
reflections. But it was especially by causing those who 
knew, or who had the reputation of knowing, to express 
their thoughts, that he exercised his mental powers. 
Endowed with a most critical mind, he was never deceived 
by appearances. Very quick, he perceived how much 
illusion there was in the desires of the majority of men, 
and in the calculations which led them to act; and on the 
other hand, lending ear to those who gave themselves out 
as teachers and guides, he became aware of the inaccuracy 
of their ideas. From this he concluded that ignorance of 
oneself was the most common evil, and that the necessary 
condition of good conduct, as also of happiness, was to 
know oneself well. 

His Method.—Possessed by this idea, he created for 
himself a method which became one of the most precious 
acquisitions of the human mind. It consisted fundamen- 
tally of a patient search for truths, which too often 
escape the sluggish mind deceived by vain words—a search 
which he conducted by means of analysis, comparison, and 
induction. ‘The form he gave it was so simple that at 
first it concealed its own profundity. No oratorical ex- 
positions after the manner of the sophists were involved ; 
he thought that a man who merely speaks always has a 
chance of erring and of being only imperfectly under- 
stood. In place of the continuous speech, accordingly, 
he substituted a logical series of precise questions—a 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY $35 


slow but sure course whereby one never advanced a single 
step before reaching an agreement on the preceding idea, 
which had first to be made perfectly clear. In reality, 
the questioner, who was Socrates himself, as a rule could 
scarcely have failed to form an opinion in advance, at 
least provisionally, regarding the subject under discus- 
sion; but far from affirming this opinion from the very 
outset and upholding it at all costs afterwards, he sub- 
jected it faithfully to a control which he endeavored to 
make as rigorous as possible. Altogether, he felt satis- 
fied only if his questions led his interlocutor to declare 
as his personal conviction the idea under discussion. It 
seemed then that the latter had discovered it of his own 
accord in the recesses of his mind, where until then it 
had remained latent. That is why Socrates jestingly 
called his method maieutic, that is to say, the obstetrical 
means of bringing forth ideas from men’s minds. 

Plato and Xenophon show us in their Socratic dialogs 
how he practiced his method every day and everywhere. 
From the early morning he could be seen walking up and 
down the public square. He deemed every occasion good 
to stop people and engage them in conversation. It 
mattered little what their social condition or their age 
was; artisans, merchants, politicians, sophists, young peo- 
ple, and full-grown men—all had to stop to be thus ques- 
tioned by this indefatigable inquirer. Nor was it easy 
to escape him; for his lively humor, his insinuating and 
insidious grace, the charming irony with which he avowed 
his ignorance and demanded instruction, rendered flight 
almost impossible. Everybody in Athens knew him; and 
every day his influence increased. Without being a 
schoolmaster, without professing anything whatsoever, lit- 
tle by little he gathered followers around him, especially 
young people interested in dialectic; and the latter be- 


136 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


came his pupils without being formally known as such. 

His Essential Ideas.—This method quite often led those 
who practiced it, and Socrates himself first of all, either 
to a feeling of doubt or to an avowal of ignorance. 
By no means, however, did he acquiesce in scepticism. 
On the contrary, from his conversations there emerges a 
doctrine which may still be defined, even today, by its 
essential features. 

It was founded upon a new conception of philoso- 
phy. Cicero ingeniously characterized it by saying that 
Socrates ‘“‘brought philosophy down from heaven to 
earth.” Rejecting all speculation regarding the origin 
of things, regarding motion, regarding the nature of 
existence, which perhaps disturbed his religious instinct 
and in any case seemed to him too ambitious for human 
intelligence, he established the principle that the proper 
task of philosophy was the study of man and his im- 
mediate interests. If this attitude had ultimately pre- 
vailed, it would have had the grave consequence of 
arresting the development of the physical and natural 
sciences. But its immediate effect was fortunate for the 
reason that it resulted in concentrating the efforts of a 
few powerful minds on questions of prime importance— 
questions which the ill regulated activity of the sophists 
had scarcely more than superficially touched upon. 

How did Socrates conceive this study of man? For 
him the object of all human existence was happiness; 
so that the science of happiness seemed to him the es- 
sential object of life. But he firmly believed that no 
happiness was possible outside of virtue, and that virtue, 
on the other hand, almost sufficed in itself to procure 
happiness. According to him, what prevented the ma- 
jority of men from making themselves happy by means of 
virtue was their illusions and their prejudices. He was 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 137 


convinced that, if they once saw to what extent moral 
goodness is profitable, they would practice goodness quite 
naturally. All his efforts, therefore, tended to clarify 
these fundamental notions by showing the precise nature 
of each of the virtues, such as wisdom, temperance, cour- 
age, justice, candor, loyalty, disinterestedness, devoted 
friendship, and abnegation, and by discovering in each of 
them this same character of social and personal utility. 
On the other hand, he pointed out how much illusion and 
ignorance there was in the opposite vices and defects, espe- 
cially in ambition and in the desire for wealth. Contrary 
to the traditional morality of the time, he even went so far 
as to deny that it was ever permissible to render evil for 
evil. In fact, thanks to the nobility of his character, 
some of the most splendid of modern Christian ideals 
emerged from the depths of Greek civilization. 

And it was also a new religion, perhaps without his 
wishing it to be so and without his being very clearly 
conscious of it. The earlier philosophy, in revealing 
in the life of the universe the play of great natural 
forces, had in fact destroyed the entire structure of the 
traditional mythology; but by its very nature it was 
almost inaccessible to the majority of minds. It was 
properly a philosophy of scholars. On the other hand, 
it offered nothing to religious minds to take the place of 
what it had destroyed. Socrates, however, while reject- 
ing the coarser elements of the mythology, remained loyal 
to the traditional cult and to certain fundamental parts 
of the common belief. If he admitted neither the conflicts 
nor the passions of the gods, nor anything at all that 
degraded them, he did not suffer anybody to doubt their 
intervention in human affairs. He believed in their 
justice, in their goodness, and in their perfection, as 
firmly as he believed in their power. Thus without break- 


138 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


ing with polytheism, he manifestly tended toward a sort 
of monotheism. His philosophy therefore contains the 
essential elements of a religion closely bound up with 
morality and consequently of a nature calculated to sat- 
isfy minds which could not do without the supernatural. 
Inevitably destined to become more distinct and to un- 
dergo further development with his successors, it heralded 
the end of one of the great epochs of human thought. 


(4) THE GREAT POETS OF THE FIFTH CENTURY 


Reaction of Philosophy.—This profound intellectual 
activity naturally had a more or less appreciable reaction 
upon the majority of the contemporaries. It is interest- 
ing to trace the evidence of this in the works of the most 
important of them, especially in those of the most illus- 
trious poets of the period, which was so rich in poetry. 
But that would be to detract somewhat from the credit 
due them; for these great minds were not merely echoes. 
Each of them, indeed, was a philosopher in his way by 
virtue of having his own conception of humanity and of 
life; and this personal philosophy is no less worthy of 
attention. 3 

Pindar.— Among them the Theban, Pindar, is probably 
the one who by education, environment, and traditions of 
the kind to which he owed his glory, remained most foreign 
to philosophical speculations properly so called. The 
basis of his ideas still belongs to the sixth century; his 
moral sentiment is very nearly that of Solon, Theognis, 
and the sages. Nevertheless, he is distinguished from 
them, not only by the brilliance with which his lyric 
genius embellished his thoughts, but also by a loftiness and 
a profundity which denote a more extensive and more 
penetrating reflection. Whether he is correcting the 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 139 


legends in order to adapt them to a saner morality, 
whether he is representing the divine power by images 
which enlarge it magnificently, or whether again he is 
reminding the princes, in celebrating their victories, of the 
laws of human destiny, we feel in listening to him that he 
sees things from a higher plane and that he thinks more 
forcibly. The intellectual heir of an earlier age, he, too, 
nevertheless partook largely of the inspirations which at 
that time permeated the entire Greek world. 
Aischylus.—The same influence is much more percep- 
tible in the Athenian Aischylus, his contemporary. If the 
latter is with good reason looked upon as the creator of 
the Greek tragedy, it is perhaps due not so much to the ma- 
terial improvements for which the theater was indebted to 
him or to the more discerning structure of his plays, as it 
is to the moral value which he was able to give to his 
dramatic action. In each of the pathetic situations with 
which the legends provided him, his strong meditative mind 
perceived a question propounded to the human conscience. 
Consequently, the conflicts among the gods, like the play 
of passions which filled the souls of the heroic characters, 
were for him merely poetic motives calculated to excite 
pity, admiration, or fear. Each of his tragedies con- 
tains amoral problem. Accepting the old beliefs as to the 
jealousy of the gods, the ineluctible power of fate, the 
hereditary transmission .of ancient maledictions, and 
the collective responsibility of generations, he delighted 
in showing the human will in some manner following a 
sorrowful course thru the midst of these mysterious forces, 
which dominated it without smothering it. And it was 
truly a philosophy which he thus developed—a philosophy 
without any precise doctrine, raising more questions than 
it was able to answer, and yet directed in a general way 
toward the idea that wrong-doing calls inevtiably for pun- 


140 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


ishment, and toward the condemnation of pride and of 
violence. 

Sophocles.—Sophocles, who, after Auschylus exerted a 
not less profound influence upon the Athenian soul, was in- 
spired by the same general ideas. But those mysterious 
forces which he, like his predecessor, recognized, seemed 
in his dramas to fall into the background; altho always 
present, they were more concealed. Moreover, the senti- 
ments of his personages and their characters were un- 
furled, so to speak, more freely. On the one hand, it 
seemed as if they had fallen under the influence of the 
dialectic of the time, for they resorted more to the proc- 
esses of reason, either to justify their resolutions or to 
combat or disprove arguments opposed to them. ‘This 
reasoning was always in conformity with their character 
and their passions, but it was vigorous, well conducted, 
substantial and skillful. On the other hand, an entirely 
new psychological variety manifested itself in these plays. 
A delicate and forceful art opposed the characters to one 
another, finding in these contrasts the means of illumining 
them more vividly and of turning them to better account. 
At times the poet did not hesitate to reveal, even among 
the most heroic of them, signs of human weakness—regret, 
hesitation, or the awakening of precious memories in hours 
of distress. Going still further in his Oedipus Rea, he 
drew a picture of one and the same man, first at the height 
of his power, venerated as a god by an entire people, and 
himself full of confidence in his fortune and in his genius; 
then, after the most soul-stirring vicissitudes, suddenly 
beaten down, fallen to the lowest depth of misery, humil- 
iated by the abhorrence of others and by the sense of his 
own degradation. The truth is that the rich and supple 
imagination of Aschylus lent itself well to the understand- 
ing and expression of everything human. Nothing es- 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 141 


caped his faculty of dramatic creation, neither violent 
passions, nor the mildest sentiments, such as kindness, 
grace, filial love, devotion, and delicacy. We may say 
that he was one of the most complete representatives of 
Attic civilization at a time when the latter concentrated 
in itself, so to speak, the best of Greek civilization. 
Euripides.—At his side shone his rival, Euripides, who 
was a few years younger, and whose work, by its profound 
differences, reveals so vividly the evolutionary forces 
which were then operating in men’s minds. Whereas in 
Sophocles the influence of philosophy was scarcely more 
than formal, in Euripides it had penetrated to the very 
depths of his soul and had created there an inner duality. 
He was at once a thinker and a poet, and his two na- 
tures sometimes had difficulty in agreeing with each 
other. There is no doubt that this state of mind was 
common to a certain number of his contemporaries; but 
what in them remained obscure, came clearly to the sur- 
face in his dramas. As a poet Euripides, like Aschylus 
and Sophocles, accepts the ancient legends and everything 
of the supernatural contained in them; and not only does 
he accept them, but he makes use of them with all the 
powers of his genius. Better than anybody else he 
utilizes in them the elements of pity and fear with which 
they were filled, and he makes out of them the most deeply 
moving tragedies that have ever been produced. More- 
over, he renders them all the more touching in that he 
consciously reduces the heroes and heroines to the stature 
of plain mortals. It was truly the humanity of his time 
that he presented to the view of the Athenian people; 
and when the latter, after some resistance, became ac- 
customed to this new manner, it is easy to understand 
that they became passionately attached to it, that they 
even preferred it to any other manner, since they found 


142 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


in these plays a picture, as it were, of the life which 
they knew by experience. Behind these creations of a 
marvelous imagination and sensibility, however, we are 
conscious of the unfailing presence of the thinker. He 
observes life as a moralist, weaving into the dialog his per- 
sonal reflections, now subtile and bantering, now grave 
and slightly saddened, always rather strangely placed 
in the mouth of one or another character who seems 
temporarily to forget his réle. And he observes it also 
as a sceptic, emphasizing at pleasure the improbability of 
certain traditions, protesting against the immorality 
of others, making it clear that he refuses to take account 
of them. From this results a composite work, equal in 
its qualities to the most beautiful works of its kind, 
nevertheless disconcerting in places, of a nature calcu- 
lated to excite contemporary thought to the utmost, and 
revealing most clearly to us today the diverse tendencies 
that gave it birth. 

Aristophanes.—Almost as much may be said of the 
comedy of the time, already defined, and of its principal 
representative, Aristophanes. In his case, too, behind the 
charming poet and the clown, there is the thinker, 
capricious and fantastic, to be sure, but also clear-sighted 
and arch, one whose ingenious and fair-minded views are 
mixed with prejudices. His mind is full of contrasts and 
contradictions; he is a defender of the religion which 
makes light of the gods; and he is an enemy of innovations 
but himself an innovator. Altho fond of the language 
of Euripides, and prone to imitate him, he also criticises 
him. No doubt entirely capable of appreciating the 
dialectic of Socrates, he caricatures him nevertheless. 
Nowhere is there revealed more clearly than in his work 
the mobility of the Athenian mind, accessible to all in- 
fluences, never unfolding itself without reserve, employ- 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 143 


ing its natural pliancy to conciliate all things that were 
at odds, and adapting itself well enough, after all, to a 
diversity of opinions which amused it but at the same 
time did not profoundly disturb it. 


(5) THE HISTORIANS 


Herodotus.—At the same time that the intellectual and 
moral experience acquired in the fifth century was thus 
brilliantly manifesting itself in poetry, it was also pro- 
viding history with the means of producing works of high 
value. Until then, historical writing had still been in 
its infancy. In groping about it fell back upon the 
genealogies and local chronicles, in which the most prom- 
inent place was given to mythology and to the mythical 
families with their store of legends. Geography, its 
auxiliary, does not seem, on its part, to have progressed 
very much since the time of Hecateus and Anaximander. 
But a new curiosity was awakened by the effect of the 
Persian Wars. At that time the Greeks as a people had 
had an alluring, altho confused, vision of everything con- 
tained in the depths of the vast Orient, until then very 
little known. They could only accept with favor any- 
thing which would serve to reveal more of it. 

An Asiatic Greek, Herodotus of Halicarnassus, under- 
took this task and succeeded very well with it. An in- 
defatigable traveler, whose desire to see and to know led 
him successively to Egypt, to Asia, to almost all parts of 
Greece, to Sicily, and to Italy, where he finally settled 
down and probably died, he succeeded in carrying out 
a most profitable inquiry—questioning men, visiting 
monuments, informing himself about everything, about 
customs, laws, forms of government, and religions, with- 
out preconceived ideas or prejudices, but with a singular 


144 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


mixture of acuteness and credulity, of insatiable curiosity 
and religious discretion. And from everything which he 
had seen, read, and heard, he produced by the power of 
his genius, by his keen sense for beautiful things, by his 
talent as a story-teller, and by the charm of his style, a 
truly admirable work. In an immense frame, as in a sort 
of moving panorama, he gave his readers a picture of the 
life of twenty different peoples. How much instruction 
was offered in this encyclopedic collection, wherein the 
variety of human types, the multiplicity of religions, and 
the history of diverse institutions, were so interestingly 
set forth! Scarcely did the contemporary tragedy itself 
present so rich a collection of human documents. 
Moreover, by virtue of their national interest and their 
pathetic episodes, these bounteous narratives, which dealt 
chiefly with the Persian Wars, constituted also a veritable 
drama, one of the dramas, indeed, which was destined to 
stir most deeply the sons of the victors at Marathon and 
at Salamis. A religious idea dominated it, identical with 
that which inspired both Aschylus and Sophocles. Like 
them, Herodotus believed in a jealous divinity always 
ready to repress excessive pride or ambition, and always 
quick to cast down any one who was rising imprudently. 
Neither with him nor with them, however, did this belief 
tend to discourage useful activities. Having risen from 
the need of explaining certain great catastrophes, it left 
to politics all its importance, assigning to it merely the 
duty of observing moderation in everything. | 
Thucydides.—Nevertheless, however beautiful this work 
was, it did not give full satisfaction to the taste for moral 
analysis and profound reflection, which at the end of the 
fifth century was developing more and more in minds 


which had been touched by philosophy. It was especially 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 145 


for the latter that Thucydides wrote at that time his 
History of the Peloponnesian War. 

_ A member of the Athenian aristocracy, a politician, and 
a general, he was able to combine with the most remark- 
able natural endowments, the advantages of an extensive 
education and experience in the things whereof he was to 
write. From his first teachers, among whom we should 
perhaps count the orator Antiphon, he derived his taste 
for a style which, abandoning the free and rather smooth 
phraseology characteristic of the Ionian prose writers, 
sought to condense ideas and to turn every part of them 
to account, even at the expense of ease, of grace, and 
sometimes of clarity, but always to the advantage of a 
scrupulous precision. 

In order definitively to break the bonds which still at- 
tached history to epic poetry, it was necessary to elim- 
inate the fabulous and legendary elements from the 
former altogether. This is what Thucydides did. Cast- 
ing a backward glance, at the beginning of his narrative, 
at the development of Greek civilization, he does not hesi- 
tate to explain it rationally on the basis of still existing 
primitive customs in Greece. Thus vanished the fiction 
of the golden age. But Thucydides reveals even firmness 
of judgment as regards the supernatural element in sct- 
ting forth contemporary events. Without denying the 
power of the gods, he says nothing of their intervention 
in human affairs, believing with reason that there was no 
profit either for the historian or for his readers in ponder- 
ing over mysterious causes of which they could know noth- 
ing. What seemed to him useful to consider in events in 
general was not that which escapes human calculations, 
but, on the contrary, that which had been foreseen or 
might have been foreseen. For the proper field of his- 


146 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


tory, according to him, was to make usual foresight pos- 
sible in the future by taking advantage of al x 
periences. 

This view naturally led him to the investigation of re- 
mote as well as immediate causes; and it was precisely in 
this way that he proceeded in explaining the rivalry of 
Sparta and Athens. As for the direct causes, for him 
these were not only the few incidents which had kindled 
the flames of war, but also the moral disposition of the 
two city-states, their conception of their respective roles, 
and the consciousness which they had of their power. 
This same method we find in all the details of the nar- 
rative. Chance, which can never be entirely excluded 
from human affairs, was here reduced at least to a mini- 
mum. Never had a similar effort been made to explain 
rationally everything which can be thus explained. 

Moreover, far from failing to recognize the personal 
influence of certain men, he endeavors to examine and an- 
alyze the character of each of them. Thus it is that he 
introduces such persons as his Pericles, his Nicias, his Al- 
cibiades, and his Cleon—figures strongly characterized 
and no doubt carefully drawn from life. In order to set 
forth their designs, their anticipations, their avowed mo- 
tives or their illusions, he attributes to them speeches 
imitated from those which they had actually delivered, 
but composed primarily with a view to making them 
known; and whenever he sees fit, he supplements them, 
always discreetly, by introducing some reflections of 
his own. Then, too, while detaching them from the 
crowd, he takes care not to isolate them from it. Know- 
ing better than anybody else the power of opinion, he 
feels obliged to take account of all the movements per- 
ceptible to his readers. His history not only records the 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 147 


sentiments of the peoples in conflict, but it tells of Hiner 
successes and their revenges as well. 

We may add that this thinker was possessed of a strong 
and vivid imagination, skilled in representing moving 
realities by means of a few well-chosen touches. A con- 
siderable number of his narratives are admirable. The 
impression they give is all the more vivid in that it seems 
to rise from the facts themselves, to such an extent does 
the narrator conceal and efface himself. We detect no ap- 
parent effort to create effects, no obstrusive reflection. 
The things themselves are evoked before us; and we see in 
them precisely what it is necessary for us to see in order 
to be the most deeply moved by them. 

Altogether, thanks to Thucydides, the historical curi- 
osity which Herodotus excited and unquestionably devel- 
oped by the immensity and variety of the picture which 
he placed before the eyes of his readers, became more 
intense, more concentrated, and more profound. The 
narration of ancient or recent events, formerly the sub- 
ject of epic poetry, then brought closer to reality by 
geography, ethnography, observation of customs, and 
critical analysis of the sources, became properly a subject 
of science by allowing itself to become more and more 
penetrated by reflection. Thucydides heralded and pre- 
pared the way for Aristotle. 


(6) oRATORY—PERICLES 


What We Know of the Oratory of the Fifth Century. 
—Along with history and philosophy, oratory was, in the 
fifth century, one of the most remarkable manifestations 
of the Greek genius. It is not, of course, to be confused 
with rhetoric, to which we have referred above; for 


148 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


rhetoric is only a theoretical science of which oratory 
sometimes condescends to make use, but with which it can 
-also dispense. Unfortunately we know the orators of this 
time only from what others say about them. They would 
have been afraid, in publishing their speeches, of being 
confused with the teachers of rhetoric. For them a 
harangue was above all a mode of action. If a few 
hearers had not noted down their impressions, we would 
now know of them nothing more than their names. 
Pericles—Under these conditions it will suffice to 
mention here the most illustrious of them—all the more 
so because he is the man who gave his name to the entire 
century, and because in a certain sense he summarizes it 
in his person. No figure, as a matter of fact, is more 
representative of Athens in the fifth century than Pericles. 
Insofar as an ideal can be realized, he realized that of 
the people who had taken him as their leader. ‘There 
was in him a natural authority, which clung to his 
character as well as to his talent. His eloquence was the 
reflection of both. To the stateliness of his appear- 
ance and bearing corresponded the nobility of his mind. 
Reared with philosophy, the friend and patron of 
Anaxagoras, he had the gift of distinguishing general 
ideas, while at the same time the accuracy of his views 
did not suffer thereby. There was nothing small or base 
either in his character or in his conceptions, nor yet any 
exaggeration. A man of action and initiative, he could © 
also calm the excessive ardor of the crowd—so we are 
told by Thucydides—and again he could encourage it in 
moments of weakness. An instinct for greatness inspired 
his policy and made itself felt in his words; but this in- 
stinct seemed penetrated by a sense of moderation. As 
a rule, his eloquence was earnest, simple, full of revealing 
light and of reason; an Attic grace was blended with a 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 149 


charm which produced conviction. But sometimes the 
intimate force of his powerful nature was also revealed; 
and then of a sudden his arguments burst forth with a 
wealth of overwhelming words which upset everything 
and were comparable with claps of thunder. It seems 
evident, accordingly, that his eloquence had a freedom of 
manner and of movement which is not to be found in the 
speeches, so strongly condensed, attributed to him by 
Thucydides. And this leads us to believe that the 
same may be said of the speeches of his rivals and 
his successors, whatever might otherwise have been his 
superiority to them. 

We may add that this great orator had a sense of 
beauty in the highest degree, as is evidenced by the role 
he played in promoting the artistic movement among his 
fellow-citizens. To speak of the artists, of whom he was 
at once the patron and the most enlightened admirer, is 
in @ sense equivalent to continuing to speak of him. 


(7) THE ARTS IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 


General Character of Art of the Fifth Century.—lIt 
was at this time, as a matter of fact, that Greek art 
reached its apogee. Greece, the creator of science, 
liberty, and humanity, revealed itself at the same time 
as the creator of beauty; and in all the formative arts 
it produced masterpieces which have never been surpassed. 
The sixth century, as we have seen, had little by little 
perfected technic, without which the most gifted artist 
is powerless. After the progress mentioned above, in 
architecture, in sculpture, and even in painting, the mas- 
ters of the fifth century had nothing more to learn as 
regards anything pertaining to the routine of their 
profession. Thereafter the hand was docilely obedient 


150 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


to the mind. The latter, freed from material difficulties 
and restrictions and mistress of its means, could give 
itself over wholly to inspiration. 'To this end, however, 
it did not feel authorized to despise reality. Like the 
great dramatic poets of the same time, the artists adhered 
to the imitation of nature, the rich and living diversity 
of which they succeeded in interpreting as well as did the 
poets, and with quite as much idealization as the latter. 
In general they were less interested in that which was 
purely individual, the curious detail and the particular 
trait, than they were in that which was typical. This 
accounts in some measure for the nobilty, the grandeur, 
and the simplicity with which their works are replete. 
Circumstances, moreover, favored this development and 
this tendency. The Persian Wars had given Greece a 
sense of its own moral force and the firmest confidence 
in its future. Full of grateful recognition toward its 
gods which had saved it, it set about to restore their 
destroyed sanctuaries and to build new ones. Its heart 
was set on embellishing them with all the means at its dis- 
posal. The art of the sculptors and painters, of decora- 
tors of all kinds, was invited to codperate with that of 
the architects. And besides the temples, public buildings, 
among them, the prytanea, porticos, and gymnasia be- 
came more numerous, as well as works of public utility, 
such as ports, arsenals, magazines, roads and bridges, to 
say nothing of private residences. The great city-states 
and the princes rivaled one another. Athens and 
Corinth, Syracuse and Tarentum, Elis and Delphi, Delos 
and the cities of Ionia, gloried in the works which they 
commanded of the best known artists. A general emula- 
tion was expressed in rich offerings, statues, and dedica- 
tory monuments. And almost everywhere it was col- 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 151 


lective sentiments which the artists were called upon to 
express in figured representations. 

Architecture.—What Greece accomplished at that time 
in the domain of architecture is truly admirable. The 
Greek temple is indeed one of the products of the human 
genius which comes closest to perfection; and the 
Parthenon at Athens may be looked upon as its highest 
development. It was between 450 and 430 sz. c., under 
the auspices of Pericles, that this marvelous edifice was 
erected upon the isolated rock of the Acropolis, the 
joint work of the architect Ictinus, who drew the plans 
for it, and of the sculptor Phidias, who not only adorned 
it with his masterpieces, but also directed the work on 
it and supervised the execution of it in all its parts. 
Never, perhaps, has a monument better expressed the soul 
of a people and its conception of beauty. Large enough 
on its rocky eminence to dominate the city, there was 
yet nothing colossal about it. It was especially by the 
harmony of its proportions and by the fine and delicate 
grace of its lines, that it was distinguished from the very 
beginning. Slightly elevated on its base, exposing to 
view its peristyle of Doric columns with their robust and 
charming curvature, and proudly supporting its archi- 
trave, which crowned it without seeming to weigh it down 
—it appeared from a distance as the most suitable abode 
for a goddess in whom strength was combined with reason. 
Viewed from close by, it satisfied the most critical scrutiny 
by the beauty of its materials, the finish of its workman- 
ship, and the discreet blending of colors which enhanced 
the effect of its general design. Moreover, it fascinated 
the visitor by its admirably sculptured pediments, by the 
reliefs on the frieze which encircled it, as also by those 
on the metopes placed at intervals between the triglyphs 


152 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


of the architrave. There, in effect, were unfolded divine 
or human scenes in logical groups, in forms full of life, 
grace, and majesty—national legends of which Athens 


was proud, allegories which recalled the city’s own ex- — 


ploits, idealized representations of its most beautiful 
religious ceremonies. ‘Thus the temple, in a sense, spoke; 
it expressed a thought, a devotion, a group of sentiments, 
at the same time manifesting the most properly Hellenic 
conception of art. 

This type, moreover, was on occasion skillfully modified 
by the architecture of the fifth century, depending upon 
circumstances. On the same Acropolis, the Erectheum, 
so different from the Parthenon, the Propyleum, the 
small Temple of the Winged Victory, and, elsewhere, the 
Temple of Zeus at Olympia, and the Telesterion at 
Eleusis, show sufficiently with what subtile inventive 
power it varied its plans, and diversified its means and 
effects, in order to adapt itself either to the conditions 
of the surrounding country or to the particular purpose 
of the edifice. Certainly it lacked neither freedom nor a 
certain suggestion of fantasy. What one never finds in 
its work is a suggestion of disorder or bad taste. 

Sculpture.—As in the case of architecture, so also in 
the case of sculpture, the mechanical progress made in the 
sixth century led, from the beginning of the fifth century 
on, to a mastery which reached its climax thirty or forty 
years later. It manifests itself by an exact determina- 
tion of proportions, an increasingly certain knowledge of 
anatomy, a greater perfection of form, a proper sense of 
movement, and, in more restricted measure, by the study 
of the human physiognomy, altho in this respect, too, 
the art of the time was concerned more with what was 
typical than with individual details. 

A certain antiquated manner is still found in the first 


a en 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 153 


period, in the work of Calamis and Myron, and in the case 

of the unknown creators of the pediments of the temple 
at Atgina and the sculptures of the Temple of Zeus at 
Olympia, remarkable as these last works already are. 
It disappeared with Polyclitus of Argos, this industrious 
creator of admirable statues of young athletes, in which 
is revealed the full beauty of the human body har- 
moniously developed. In the second half of the century 
Phidias, Alcamenes, and Peonius produced incomparable 
masterpieces. Under the chisel of these masters the 
subject almost seems to become spiritualized. These are 
no longer merely perfect forms which they produce out 
of marble; they are truly gods, whose majesty is ex- 
pressed in the dignity of their postures and in the nobility 
of their features. Admirable draperies envelop them; 
and sometimes, in order to heighten their beauty, the 
artist combines with the whiteness of the marble the luster 
of gold and the polish of ivory. Skillful, when necessary, 
in expressing motion, the sculptors of this time used it 
only with discretion, satisfied merely to suggest it in the 
calm poses which they liked to represent. Works which 
today have disappeared, such as Phidias’ statue of 
Zeus at Olympia, his Athena in the Parthenon at Athens, 
and the Aphrodite of Alcamenes, called forth in antiquity 
a unanimous and lasting admiration. We still feel this 
admiration in the presence of the mutilated marble pillars 
of the Parthenon. 

To the impression produced by each of the figures con- 
sidered alone is added that which is produced by them as 
a whole. The principle of balance and symmetry, which 
Greek art had sought from its very beginnings, is realized 
there in its perfection. It is a symmetry without stiff- 
ness or monotony, which seems to result spontaneously 
from the subject represented, and which is skillfully con- 


154 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


cealed under the great wealth of inventions; it is a sym- 
metry which is not intended solely to please the eye, but 
which speaks to the mind, by making itself the ally of 
allegory, by giving a clearer significance to the scenes 
represented. If art is an adaptation of reality to reason 
and to sentiment, it would seem that it has never produced 
anything which conforms better to its definition. 

Painting Whereas a certain number of the most beau- 
tiful sculptures of the fifth century are preserved for our 
admiration, the ancient paintings have long since disap- 
peared. Hence we are compelled to rely upon descriptions 
in representing them to ourselves. It is true that a few 
painted stele and an abundant series of figured vases 
add a precious contribution to this indirect information, 
but in spite of everything they give us only an imperfect 
idea of the pictures executed by the great artists of that 
time. Accordingly, we can say of them here only a few 
words. 

Alongside of the great sculptors of the fifth century, 
we see a succession of painters whom antiquity ranked 
with the great artists. The leaders among them were 
Polygnotus, Micon, Apollodorus, Zeuxis, and Parrhasius. 
All the testimonies indicate that the work of these masters 
attained a rare perfection. It was impossible, moreover, 
that it should have been otherwise, when the contemporary 
sculptors showed themselves so skillful in reproducing 
form and movement. These great painters, therefore, 
were likewise creators of life and beauty, and they also 
contributed to the development of the esthetic sense of 
their day. It even seems that, by reason of the means 
peculiar to their art, they had carried further than the 
sculptors the interpretation of human emotions in rep- 
resenting the moving play of the features, as also of the 


INTELLECTUAL ACTIVITY 155 


poses and gestures. Like the sculptors, nevertheless, 
while laying hold of the infinitely varied aspects of life, 
they knew at the same time how to disengage from it, and 
to. make prominent, those traits most worthy of atten- 
tion. From what we are told of their work we can 
not doubt that they obeyed the same principles in every- 
thing; they, too, associated symmetry and balance with 
variety, and realized movement without exaggeration or 
confusion. 

The Industrial Arts——At any rate we can judge the 
influence which the fine arts exerted in the fifth century 
upon the industrial arts. Our museums have collected 
quantities of painted vases, miniature figures, medals, 
gems, jewels, coins, even utensils, which bear witness to 
it. Nothing, perhaps, is better calculated to make us feel 
how thoroly the Greek civilization of that time was im- 
bued with the artistic sense. We may mention, in this 
regard, the red-figured vases, the most beautiful of which 
are as remarkable for the elegance of their design as for 
the grace of their form. Various scenes are repre- 
sented upon them, now borrowed directly from contem- 
porary life, now imitated from the pictures of painters 
renowned at that time. In both cases, technical skill is 
allied with personal accent. Each of these works is a 
more or less original invention, almost always bearing 
witness to a refined taste, and often graceful or charm- 
ing. And even in the products of the second order it is 
seldom that one does not find something of these quali- 
ties. 

If we remember that these attractive objects could be 
found in the public markets thruout almost the entire 
Mediterranean basin, we understand better the part which 
Greece played as the educator of humanity. 


156 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


(8) GREEK CIVILIZATION AT THE END OF THE 
FIFTH CENTURY 


In all forms at once, therefore, Greek civilization had 
developed magnificently in the course of the fifth century. 
In some of these forms, especially in certain creations of 
literature and of art, it had even reached its culmination. 
On the other hand, the human type realized in some of 
its better representatives was truly worthy of admiration 
for a happy equilibrium of physical qualities and moral 
qualities, for its broad and intelligent interests. Pro- 
found love of country did not exclude in the cultivated 
Greek an already vivid sense of human fraternity; the 
conception of laws was reconciled in his mind with that 
of liberty, and respect for the past with legitimate aspira- 
tion for progress. A truly spiritual religion began to 
free itself from the ancient mythology and to do away 
with the most burdensome supersitions of the past. In 
particular, an ideal of beauty was formed which continued 
to grow and to revive incessantly in various forms. 

Does all this mean that Greece thereafter had nothing 
more to acquire, and that it was fatally condemned to 
more or less rapid decay, like a plant exhausted by its 
very blooming? Events were destined to prove that this 
was not the case. Its genius was still far from having 
manifested all its resources; and the fourth century was 
to complete in many ways, and in a glorious manner, the 


magnificent work of the fifth. 


PART III 


THE FOURTH CENTURY 





CHAPTER I 
POLITICS, BUSINESS, CUSTOMS 


Survey of the History of the Greek States in the Fourth 
Century.—The Peloponnesian War had seemingly settled 
the question of hegemony in Greece to the advantage of 
Sparta. But in reality such was not the case. Athens, 
altho defeated, had not yet reached the point of resigna- 
tion; and Sparta, altho victorious, showed itself incapable 
of asserting its unwieldy and ineffective preponderance. 
In 395 z. c. a coalition was formed against Sparta. This 
was followed by another war; after which a peace im- 
posed by the King of Persia, who profited by these 
rivalries, reduced Greece to a condition of decadence and 
general weakness (386 B.c.). 

During this decomposition of the nation a new ambi- 
tion, that of Thebes, sprang up unexpectedly. While 
Athens was endeavoring to reconstitute its maritime con- 
federation, Thebes was seeking to dominate central 
Greece and the Peloponnesus. Two remarkable men, 
Epaminondas and Pelopidas, achieved some brilliant suc- 
cesses for the Theban arms. Victorious over Sparta in 
the battle of Leuctra (371 3. c.), the Thebans brought 
that city to the verge of ruin, organized Arcadia and 
Messene against it, and even pressed forward into Thessaly 
and Eubea. But the death of Pelopidas, and a little 
later that of Epaminondas, who perished at Mantinea in 
362 B. c., led to the collapse of this short-lived ascendency. 


The power of Sparta was shaken no less profoundly, 
159 


160 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


while Athens, on the other hand, witnessed in 355 zB. c. 
the dissolution of the confederation which it had momen- 
tarily reéstablished. None of the Greek states was any 
longer in a position to claim’supremacy. 

But precisely at that time Macedonia, which had 
scarcely emerged from a semi-barbarous condition, was 
organizing its forces under the initiative of its young © 
king, Philip II (859-336 s. c.). He was at once a states- 
man and a soldier. Ambitious, and having at his dis- 
posal a strong and enthusiastic army, as well as a con- 
siderable wealth for that time, he succeeded in the course 
of a score of years in overcoming everything which stood 
in the way of his plans. His victory at Cheronea (338 
B.C.) over the combined forces of Thebes and Athens, 
made him the master of Greece. Assassinated two years 
later, he bequeathed his methods of action and his plans 
regarding Asia to his son, Alexander. It is well known 
how the latter realized them. Having compelled all 
Greece to recognize him as a ruler, he undertook the con- 
quest of the Orient; and by a series of prodigious suc- 
cesses he achieved this in a few years. When he died at 
Babylon, in 323 3s. c., he had founded an immense empire 
and had opened up the Orient to Greek civilization. <A 
new period was ushered in. First of all, let us endeavor 
to characterize more fully what we have just surveyed 
in a few words. 

The Weakening of Public Spirit on the City-states.— 
In the preceding century each of the principal states of 
Greece had pursued its own independent policy, to which 
it devoted itself entirely. A sense of confidence sustained 
the energy of the citizens and redoubled their power. In 
the fourth century this confidence decreases steadily from 
day to day. Strong and firm resolutions now give way 
to hesitation, indecision, discouragement, and, conse- 


POLITICS, BUSINESS, AND CUSTOMS 161 


quently, disagreement. The inadequacy of resources is 
everywhere felt as an obstacle to large enterprises. A 
certain languor, quite natural after so much fighting and 
destruction, invades the s@ul of the people. Above all 
they want peace, which theréafter seems to the majority 
of them the greatest of all blessings ; it is peace which they 
wish to preserve at any price, even to the extent of closing 
their eyes to more or less imminent dangers. Moreover, 
this frame of mind is favored by the improvement of 
material prosperity. ‘The development of commerce and 
industry causes men to feel more keenly the need of tran- 
quility, which will permit them to enjoy life. Under these 
conditions the weakening of civic spirit was very unfor- 
tunate. Private interests tended to predominate over the | 
public interest. Everybody thought chiefly of leading 
an easy life, of growing rich, and of enjoying as many 
pleasures as possible. Movable wealth, which accumulated 
in the hands of the most clever or the most fortunate, 
created a class of capitalists, among whom the taste for 
luxury increased from father to son. How could all this 
have failed to modify the habits of life? These changes 
are well known to us especially as regards Athens; but 
there is no doubt that what was true of Athens was also 
true of the majority of the Greek city-states. 

Mercenary Armies.—First we may note a rather char- 
acteristic fact—the growing distaste for military service. 
More and more the citizens manifest the desire to evade 
what until then they had considered their first duty and 
their honor. More and more it becomes customary to 
resort to mercenaries for the recruitment of armies; each 
republic enrolls for pay the troops of which it has need. 
Moreover, available mercenaries are not lacking. At 
this time there is found in Greece a sort of errant multi- 
tude, composed of all those whom the almost incessant 


162 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


civil discords had thrown into exile. Besides these out- 
casts, there are those whose miserable condition forces 
them to seek a means of livelihood; and there are also 
adventurers, tempted by the prospect of pillage or sim- 
ply by a taste for the hazardous and the unknown. In 
this way groups of professional soldiers are constituted ; 
and to command them there appear captains of bands, 
professional officers, who on their own initiative organize 
small armies and offer their services to whomsoever 1s 
willing to pay for them. The majority of military ex- 
peditions are conducted with these mercenary armies, while 
citizen armies, growing ever less numerous, play only a 
limited and secondary role. The activity of the citizens 
turns to other channels. 

Politics. Parties.—But from the fact that the people 
were less engrossed in matters of public interest, we should 
not conclude that they renounced politics. Far from it. 
A republic does not have to have great plans, nor need 
the majority of its citizens think only in terms of the 
common welfare, in order that the conflict of opinions 
may continue. Foreign affairs, even when one has re- 
nounced vast ambitions, offer none the less an ample sub- 
ject for discussion, especially among people who like 
to talk and are accustomed and pleased to listen to 
speeches on both sides of every subject. Furthermore, 
in view of the uncertainties of the general policy, internal 
dissension could not but increase. The old parties took 
new names, without disappearing for that reason; their 
number even increased in the process of dismemberment, 
according as groups were formed which were less attached 
to definite programs than to particular men. The spirit 
of rivalry among the leaders of these groups was intense, 
and it manifested itself in two ways: on the one hand, in 
the public deliberations, where ideas were opposed or de- 


POLITICS, BUSINESS, AND CUSTOMS 163 


sires came into conflict; on the other hand, in the civil 
actions which these rivals brought against one another. 
Thus politics became a contest in which well-known orators 
stood opposed to one another, and in which hatreds and 
implacable enmities were given free rein. And for the 
majority of the citizens this contest was the most soul- 
stirring of spectacles, involving, as it did, the honor and 
often the very lives of the contestants. It is not sur- 
prising that a part of the life of the Athenians was de- 
voted to such oratorical combats. Nothing was more 
likely to give them the air of pursuing a useful activity, 
even when these speeches were not translated into action. 

In spite of all this, from the political point of view 
Athens was still one of the least disturbed of the Greek 
city-states. It knew no internal revolution until the time 
of the death of Alexander. This was not the case else- 
where. The Politics of Aristotle furnishes numerous 
proofs of the fact that few of the Greek states were 
free from civil disturbances at that time. Each form 
of government, in those small and turbulent communities, 
tended to exaggerate its principle; democracies allowed 
themselves to lapse into demagogy, aristocracies into 
oligarchy; and often both forms terminated in tyranny. 
This is what we see in Sicily, Italy, and Thessaly, in sev- 
eral of the Greek colonies in Asia Minor, and in numerous 
states of Greece proper. 

The Business World.—One thing which saved Athens 
from factional conflicts was perhaps the importance which 
business activity had acquired there at that time. In- 
deed, in the fourth century this city was one of the great 
trading centers of Greece. In this respect the policy 
inaugurated by Pericles in the preceding century had 
borne all its fruits. Athenian industry, devoted especially 
to the manufacture of articles of luxury, such as furni- 


164 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


ture, arms and shields, vases, ornaments and jewelry, 
exhibited a remarkable activity and ingenuity. It was 
commended for the good taste, elegance, and finish of 
its products. Its numerous workshops, operated under 
the direction of artisans who were veritable artists, turned 
out products which were in demand far and wide. The 
export and import trade, which was the counterpart of 
this production, sustained an active and lucrative com- 
merce. Nothing is more instructive in this regard than 
the advocates’ pleas of that time, notably those which 
have come down to us under the name of Demosthenes. 
The cases dealt with by the latter reveal the nature and 
importance of the affairs with which these business men 
were occupied; and at the same time they acquaint us 
with the men themselves. It was a mixed world of metics 
and of citizens, of honorable merchants and of others less 
honorable. Their vessels sailed to Sicily, Egypt, and 
Pontus, to bring back wheat for the consumption of the 
population of Attica; from Panticapeum they returned 
with salt-provisions, skins, and wools; in passing they 
took on wines at the islands, and various products of 
Asia Minor and of Syria, which they either exchanged 
along the route or conveyed to the market of the Pirzus. 

In order to insure to this traffic the necessary guaran- 
tees, a body of laws was gradually evolved wherein was 
manifested the practical sense indispensable to business ; 
and from day to day these laws were adapted to the re- 
quirements brought to light by experience. Athens had 
also witnessed the birth, and was now witnessing the rapid 
development, of banking houses, the necessary auxiliaries 
of commerce and industry—banks of deposit and banks 
of credit, the operations of which are frequently described 
in the speeches which we have mentioned. At their head 
we find active and intelligent men of affairs, such as 


POLITICS, BUSINESS, AND CUSTOMS 165 


Pasio and Phormio, formerly slaves but later freed, 
becoming associated with their masters in the conduct of 
business and rising to be persons of note. These bankers 
receive capital, either to insure its safekeeping, or to in- 
vest it in various enterprises, such as the exploitation of 
mines or commercial speculations; they also lend money 
at interest, open accounts, grant credits, facilitate pay- 
ments by correspondents—in a word, serve as inter- 
mediaries in the majority of business transactions. Some 
of them even play a political réle. Pasio, for example, 
seems to have used his capital to help Timotheus in cer- 
tain military operations. From this time on, therefore, 
Greece realized that codperation between capital, indus- 
try, commerce, and banking which is the prerequisite 
of all material progress. 

Customs.—Some changes in manners and, customs could 
not fail to result from this new condition of society. A 
certain relaxation of moral discipline was bound to make 
itself felt in consequence of the rapid enrichment of a 
few, of the development of urban life, of the more and 
more frequent relations with foreign countries, and of 
the affluence of the resident aliens. The latter were no 
longer only sophists, philosophers, or artists who came 
to make themselves known; they were people of all kinds 
and of all values, some attracted by commercial interests, 
others by curiosity, by the beauty of the city which the 
fifth century had made so worthy of admiration, by the 
renown of its schools, or by the pleasures to be found 
there. The old Athenians, attached to the local tradi- 
tions, became less and less numerous every day. The 
young generation took more liberties; the old genera- 
tion itself lost some of its gravity in losing a part of its 
authority. Athens began to resemble Corinth. Courte-: 
sans came there in large numbers and mingled in society, 


166 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


making their grace appreciated and in some cases their 
wit; and naturally their seductive powers did not fail to 
cause family troubles, sometimes even violent disruptions. 

Against this relaxation, of course, protests were raised. 
A little further on we shall have to speak of philosophy 
and its new tendencies. But to this reaction by instruc- 
tion was added the reaction by example, by hereditary 
sentiments, and by the natural force of practical reason. 
Hence in society as a whole there arose more differences, 
perhaps, among men; and in each social group considered 
by itself, more divergences, more inward conflicts. The 
interest of the psychological spectacle offered to the ob- 
server increased all the more. ‘The types of human nature 
presented to his eyes, being more complex, demanded 
closer consideration and more delicate analysis. This 
accounts for the fact that the literature of the fourth 
century is unlike that of the fifth. It is the reflection of 
a social organization which every year was growing more 
and more different from that which had preceded it. It 
is the result of new habits of mind; it reveals sentiments 
in the process of transformation. Consequently, in the 
evolution of Hellenic civilization, it represents a well de- 


fined epoch. 


CHAPTER II 


ORATORY, DRAMA, HISTORY 


(1) THE ORATORICAL ART 


General Survey.—These varied interests and this play 
of passions were to find their expression in the art of ora- 
tory, and at the same time to furnish the latter with 
splendid material. ‘The masters of the preceding century 
had developed oratory to a high degree; they made it 
conscious of its resources and had provided it was a care- 
fully studied technic. Already great orators, in turning 
the methods of their predecessors to account, were show- 
ing themselves capable of rendering these methods more 
flexible. The orators of the fourth century continued 
what their predecessors had so well begun; they made 
the public address an instrument well adapted to express 
all sentiments in appropriate form, to follow all move- 
ments of thought, and thus, according to the exigencies 
of the subject, either to instruct or to move the hearers. 

Pleas of Litigants in Civil Cases—A truly new form 
of eloquence appears in the civil law pleas which have 
come down to us. Those of Lysias, composed at the be- 
ginning of the century, are models of the art, which is 
purposely concealed. Written for speakers in various 
conditions of life—who according to the Athenian law 
had to deliver their pleas in person—these speeches aim 
to imitate the language, as well as the manner of talking 


and reasoning, natural to each speaker; and in these re- 
167 


168 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


citals, in this brief and precise argumentation, in the 
ingenuousness of certain details, there appears a certain 
subtle gift of imitation which is of very great charm. 
With Iseus, whose preserved speeches bear upon the 
question of inheritance, a concise but always simple logic, 
with nothing strained or labored about it, deals with more 
or less complicated matters which are to be clarified. It 
leads the mind of the judge to its end in view, at the same 
time making good use of momentary rests, in order better 
to recover the argument and then to press it more ef- 
fectively. Of Demosthenes, and of a few others whose 
work is associated with his, we also possess, besides the 
great political addresses, a collection of speeches relating 
to property disputes, litigations among heirs, and com- 
mercial and banking affairs; and in these, too, we find a 
simple, brisk eloquence, varied in tone and vigorous when 
necessary, bearing witness to a graceful art which com- 
bines ease with force. Finally, in the important frag- 
ments of the speeches of Hyperides, notably in one 
describing the low practices of a sharper, we may ad- 
mire, in addition to the same qualities, a fine sense of 
humor combined with a light and piquant grace. It is to 
this class of literary works that we must look, certainly 
not for an exemplification of all Atticism, but for one of 
the most seductive forms of Atticism in the fourth cen- 
tury, imbued with moral observation and singularly well 
adapted to expound spiritually the things of every-day 
life. 

Political Eloquence.—Nowhere, however, did the art 
of oratory shine forth so brilliantly as in politics. ‘The 
more confused the general state of affairs became at that 
time, the more urgently eloquence was called upon to 
overcome hesitations and to determine ends and means. 
For this purpose it used all its resources. ‘The fourth 


ORATORY, DRAMA, HISTORY 169 


century in Athens was the century of orators. The 
names of Atschines, Lycurgus, and Hyperides, and es- 
pecially that of Demosthenes, have remained illustrious, 
and their speeches which have come down to us have not 
ceased to be admired. 

The fact is that, whatever final opinion one may form 
of the men and events in question, works such as the 
Philippics, or again the speeches of the two adversaries 
On The Embassy or On The Crown, have a lasting value 
in themselves; and this is true not only because of their 
merit as models of oratorical style or composition, but 
still more by reason of their being disputative studies of 
both sides of one and the same political situation, in 
which there are manifested, under prejudices and violent 
passions, rare qualities of practical intelligence, of a 
strong and penetrating reflection, and of a broad human 
experience. Praised or criticized for their general ten- 
dency, they have at all times been read and pondered 
with profit by historians, by statesmen, and in fact by all 
highly cultured persons; and all have found in them lessons 
of psychology, of sound reasoning and of historical 
analysis, as well as fruitful suggestions and noble inspira- 
tions. 

Particularly in the case of Demosthenes, undeniably 
the greatest of the Greek orators, eloquence makes use of 
all the qualities which do honor to Greece—clear and 
skillful arrangement, forcefulness of thought, logical 
reasoning, the art of grouping and interpreting historical 
facts, as also that of relating effects to their causes, of 
discovering motives behind actions, of placing men upon 
the scene, and of providing an interesting narrative; and 
besides all this there is an accuracy of expression, a 
strong and grave simplicity, an unobtrusive nobility, and, 
of a sudden, admirable flights of fancy. There are pas- 


170 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


sages in the Oration on the Crown which are equal in 
moral value to some of the most beautiful pages of 
Plato. 

Together with these fiery orators we have also to men- 
tion Isocrates, but as belonging to another group of minds. 
He represents at once a tendency more closely approach- 
ing philosophy and an art that makes itself more promi- 
nent. Celebrated as a master of rhetoric, he endeavors 
in carefully prepared oratorical works to apply all the 
devices which had little by little been invented to give 
a finished elegance to the written and the spoken word. 
By the careful structure of his composition, by the har- 
monious balance of his phrases, by the expert development 
of his periods, by the precision and variety of his rhythms, 
by the choice and invention of his words, and finally 
by the arrangement of his antitheses, he convinced even 
the most sceptical listeners. Moreover, in this brilliant 
form he set forth general ideas which responded to the sen- 
timents of many of his contemporaries. Fascinated by a 
noble but unrealizable ideal, namely, peace among all the 
Greek city-states and national unity against the barbari- 
ans, he made this policy the subject of fictitious addresses, 
pamphlets, and imaginary legal arguments, by which he 
aimed to exercise an influence upon public opinion or 
upon the statesmen of his time. Whatever illusion he 
created for himself in this regard, his work nevertheless 
remains as evidence of the lofty sentiments and the 
genuinely human intentions which do honor to the Hellen- 
ism of this period. 


(2) THE DRAMA AND THE PORTRAYAL OF CUSTOMS 


Observation of Customs and Characters.—This cen- 
tury, so favorable to oratory, was no less conducive to 


ORATORY, DRAMA, HISTORY 171 


the observation of customs and characters, and in part 
for the same reasons. The great diversities which ap- 
peared more and more among men with the dissolution of 
the older social order and the increasing predominance 
of individualism, called for psychological analysis. We 
have just seen how it penetrated into oratory and made 
a large place for itself there, now in an easy, familiar 
form, now in grave or impassioned eloquence. It was im- 
posed to no less an extent upon the philosophers and 
historians, a goodly number of whom manifested at that 
time the same taste for the study and representation of 
these moral varieties. They appear in the Socratic 
dialogs, of which Plato and Xenophon have left us living 
specimens. Especially in the writings of Plato we see 
passing before our eyes an entire series of quickly sketched 
personages, each with his own physiognomy. Moreover, 
notably in certain parts of the Ethics and Politics of 
Aristotle there are fine and precise notations which reveal 
the characteristic traits of the different ages or those by 
which the human passions are distinguished from one 
another. 

The most illustrious exponent of this philosophy, 
Theophrastus, made himself known in this form of writing 
by the little books of Characters, which served as a model 
for La Bruyére. As is well known, it is a collection of 
portraits representing types less than individuals, each 
of the types being characterized by a group of traits 
which no doubt have never been combined in one and the 
same man, but which form part of one and the same 
definition. There is ingenuity in the selection and group- 
ing of these details, a form of ingenuity which is not, 
and does not purport to be, anything more than an acute 
form of observation. 

The New Comedy.—Under the influence of this taste a 


172 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


new form of comedy was born at that time, very different 
from that which had delighted the Athenians of the fifth 
century. The latter, with its exaggerated buffooneries, 
its exuberant fantasy, its absurd inventions, its violent 
attacks on the men of the day, and its biting satire at 
the expense of all innovations, had now outlived itself. It 
was no longer suitable for a society which was becoming 
more and more polished every day, and which was at the 
same time taking more and more account of the things of 
real life according as it discovered their interest. Al- 
ready Euripides, even in tragedy, had called attention 
to everything which daily life contained in the way of 
dramatic material; and it was precisely this material 
which the comedy of the fourth century, after a period 
of apprenticeship and transition, learned to utilize to 
excellent advantage. 

In the last third of this century this new form reached 
its perfection in the hands of Philemon and Menander. 
What they place upon the scene is, in a general way, the 
society of their time. In the frame of an intrigue bor- 
rowed from incidents of contemporary life and developed 
by means of a few ingenious combinations, they group 
together and put into action characters whose senti- 
ments, eccentricities, and manners form a living picture 
of the social environment in which they lived. Above all, 
their art takes pride in naturalness and in truth. Their 
aim and desire is to make the spectators recognize them- 
selves, or at least their neighbors, in these fictitious char- 
acters. 'The public taste demands that the very incidents 
shall have nothing impossible, nothing too extraordinary, 
about them; hence they are often simply divers occur- 
rences which one might think were taken from a chronicle 
of the day. And precisely because these plays imitate 
life very closely, they incite people to think in the process 


ORATORY, DRAMA, HISTORY 173 


of affording them amusement. They bring up practical 
problems, make an appeal to judgment, and offer useful 
lessons to those who would reflect. 

This delicate art completes in the happiest manner the 
simpler and broader art of the preceding century. It 
takes more account of little things, but guards against 
being absorbed by them. Menander causes men of all 
kinds to pass before us—misers, babblers, braggarts, 
gossips, fickle and inconstant lovers—in short, characters 
of mediocre value, yet good to observe for one who is 
interested, according to Menander’s own formula, in 
everything human. He reveals to us carefully portrayed 
individualities who adhere to their age and to their sta- 
tion, and to the temporary emotions and sentiments rooted 
in their very natures. We meet rich people and poor 
people, servants, freedmen, and slaves; likewise, mothers, 
Wives, young girls, as well as adventuresses and cour- 
tesans. Nothing gives us a better idea of the nature 
of Greek society at that time. It is revealed in its 
true character and in its diverse forms, with its faults and 
even its vices, with its good qualities, its elegance, its 
charm, and its humanity—the last word used here in its 
broadest sense as the one which best describes this society 
with which we are concerned. 

As a form of art, moreover, this comedy exerted an in- 
fluence quite different from that which had preceded it. 
The so-called “‘old comedy,” that of Aristophanes and his 
contemporaries, was too exclusively Athenian to be easily 
transported to a foreign theater. On the other hand, 
nothing prevented the comedy of Menander, in which 
human life was pictured in its general aspects, from adapt- 
ing itself to various forms of society. This accounts for 
the fact that it could later serve as a model for Plautus 
and Terence. The latter writers, in turn, found imitators 


174 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


in the countries of Roman civilization; and thus this 
same comedy furnished to modern literature the type of 
the comedy of intrigue, the comedy of manners, and even 
the character comedy. ‘The plays of Moliére, whatever 
may have been the originality of the latter’s genius, are 
related thru well known intermediaries to Menander. We 
note here, with regard to tragedy as well as to the other 
forms of literature, the influence of Hellenic civilization 
upon our own. 


(3) HIsToRY 


History and Public Taste in the Fourth Century.— 
Like oratory and drama, history in the fourth century 
could not fail to modify to some extent the traditions 
which it inherited. Its principal representatives at that 
time were Xenophon, Ctesias, Ephorus, and Theopompus ; 
and the popularity which all these men enjoyed proves 
that historical writings found numerous readers at that 
time. What has just been said explains this popularity 
and enables us to understand what the general desire 
was in this matter. The Greek people were becoming 
more and more curious about the spectacles of life; they 
called upon the historians to reveal life to them in its 
multiple aspects, and the historians, as is natural, sought 
to give them what they wanted. 

Xenophon and the Influence of Socrates.—In the works 
of Xenophon, history appears to us thoroly permeated 
with the Socratic spirit. When still a young man, 
Xenophon had felt the influence of Socrates all the more 
profoundly for the reason that the ideas of the latter were 
in close accord with his own natural tendencies. ‘The 
teachings of this master, and the personal experience 
which he himself afterwards gained, were combined in a 


ORATORY, DRAMA, HISTORY 175 


dogmatic morality which came to embody all his con- 
ceptions. ‘This morality is revealed in dialogs in his 
Memorabilia (Recollections of Socrates); it pervades the 
whole historical narrative which forms his Cyropedia; 
it appears and makes its presence felt everywhere, even 
in those works which he wrote properly as a historian, 
the Anabasis and the Hellenica. In the Anabasis, which 
gives account of the expedition of the younger Cyrus 
against his brother, King Artaxerxes, and the retreat of 
the ten thousand Greek mercenaries who had taken part 
in it, he brings out especially the value of discipline, of pru- 
dent courage, and of physical endurance. These are the 
services which could be rendered, in the midst of the most 
severe trials, by calmness, reflection, and confidence in di- 
vine guidance and protection; and the interest of the work 
lies in the judicious recording of the sentiments which 
these trials called forth, whether among the soldiers or 
among the few personages whom circumstances detached 
from the crowd. The same applies to the Hellenica, 
which recounts the series of events which agitated Greece 
from approximately 411 to 360 s.c. With whatever 
justification one may reproach the author for his preju- 
dices, for his partiality, and too often for his lack of 
knowledge of men and of things, one can not deny him 
the gift of being able to interest and please his readers. 
This is so not only because of the elegant simplicity 
of his style, revealed in a certain natural grace which 
charms and attracts, but also because this pleasing nar- 
rator is a moralist who calls attention to the quality of 
actions and emotions, and in so doing invites us to judge 
them. 

Other Historians of the Fourth Century.—The actual 
writings of Ctesias, Ephorus, and Theopompus are known 
to us only thru a few extant fragments and a few short 


176 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


quotations. ‘The testimonies are rather numerous, but 
not sufficient to make up for the lost works and to 
enable us to judge them. What we do know of them, 
however, makes it possible for us at least to recognize 
in these writers, too, some characteristic traits of their 
time. ; 

Ctesias, who had lived for some time as physician at 
the court of Susa, excited the lively interest of his readers 
by the information which he had gathered there. The 
Greeks of the fourth century were particularly interested 
in Asia, for their political and commercial relations with 
that continent were steadily increasing. Ctesias caused 
himself to be received, rightly or wrongly, as a witness 
who had come to inform them about many things of which 
Herodotus had been able to give them only an imperfect 
idea. 

Both Ephorus and Theopompus, before becoming his- 
torians, had been pupils of Isocrates, who himself, it is 
said, induced them to deal with historical subjects. The 
oratorical art, in the person of this renowned teacher, 
therefore claimed history as a part of its domain. 
Ephorus and Theopompus, notwithstanding profound 
divergences in their natures, seem to have been strongly 
inspired by this thought. The task which Ephorus set 
himself, in writing his Universal History, was that of 
bringing together in a comprehensive work all the facts 
which others had amassed before him. Such a plan did 
not involve very much personal research. ‘The success 
he achieved was due to the happy use which he made of 
these diverse materials, to a clear arrangement which 
permitted the reader to follow the course of events, and 
which at the same time grouped these events in such 
a way as to facilitate the understanding of them, and 
to the interesting nature of this vast historical survey, 


ORATORY, DRAMA, HISTORY 177 


which revealed, with a remarkable narrator’s and writer’s 
talent, the entire past of Greece from primitive times to 
the middle of the fourth century. As for Theopompus, 
a brilliant and fervent orator, it was to the questions 
of his time that he devoted himself in his Hellenica and 
Philippica, the former comprising the last years of the 
Peloponnesian War and the hegemony of Sparta down to 
394 8. c., and the latter covering the entire reign of Philip 
of Macedon. Brilliant speeches, dramatic narratives, 
even ingenious fabrications, formed the substance of the 
work. The men of the day were brought forward and 
judged according to the personal sentiments of the histo- 
rian, who did not attempt to disguise either his antipathies 
or his prejudices. Whatever objections may be raised 
against this manner of comprehending history, there is no 
doubt that his work was singularly lively and suggestive, 
abounding in portraits and in moral descriptions, and 
consequently very well calculated to satisfy the curi- 
osity of the public for which it was intended. 


CHAPTER III 
PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 


The Thinkers of the Fourth Centurya—While the lit- 
erature of the fourth century, like that of the preced- 
ing century, continued along the line of historical, 
dramatic, and oratorical works, altho inspired by a 
somewhat different spirit, speculative thought also 
advanced and achieved remarkable progress. ‘Two 
names summarize its history, those of Plato and Aris- 
totle; the former dominates the first half of the century, 
the latter the second half. Both men played very im- 
portant parts in the history of Hellenic civilization; for 
their spiritual authority was powerfully exercised, not 
only in their time and thruout all antiquity, but indeed 
also down to the very present day. 


(1) PLato 


The Philosophy of Plato as Religion.—Socrates has 
been represented above as the initiator of a religion 
permeated with philosophy. Plato, his pupil, who was 
superior to his teacher in knowledge and genius, put his 
whole soul into this religion. In the conversations of 
Socrates it was still only in a state of rough outline. 
The teachings of Plato gave it form and enabled it to 
perpetuate itself after him, without having to undergo 
any very profound modifications. 


For a long time, almost from the beginning, philosophic 
178 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 179 


thought had felt obliged to free itself from the traditional 
religion, ‘This emancipation had been effected, even be- 
fore Socrates, in such a way that philosophy was seem- 
ingly on the way to abolish religious sentiment itself. 
But in reality this was not the case. On the contrary, 
the religious sentiment was very strong in Socrates. He 
endeavored to transform rather than to destroy—a 
singularly delicate and difficult undertaking. What 
elements of the popular belief was it necessary to elimi- 
nate? What did it seem best to preserve and to adapt? 
It would seem that he did not succeed in arriving at a 
definite answer to these questions. Plato devoted his 
whole life to the matter. * 

Closely associating morality and religion, as did 
Socrates, and at the same time subjecting religious belief 
to reason, Plato did not hesitate openly to reject every 
element of the immoral or of the absurd that the ancient 
mythology contained. He even did so with a vivacity 
reminiscent of the satirical boldness of Xenophanes. 
Nevertheless, this censure did not go so far as to pro- 
scribe the polytheistic conception; it sufficed for Plato to 
introduce into it a notion of order and of hierarchy 
which gave satisfaction to the monotheistic tendency of 
his thought. Firmly attached to the idea of divine inter- 
vention in human affairs, he did not object to imputing 
this intervention to distinct powers, on the sole condition 
that these powers should be subordinated to a superior 
authority and represented as codperating with one an- 
other in a common endeavor. Precisely to define the 
nature and functions of these minor gods, however, was 
not, according to him, either possible or necessary; and 
likewise, by a complacency of imagination—an element 
that seemed to him unessential—he disregarded this task 
of definition and devoted himself to tradition and the 


180 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


ancient revelations, without, however, attributing to 
these latter elements any absolute right to assert them- 
selves. This was equivalent to giving mythology its due 
share, while at the same time reserving to free thought 
its due liberty. The essential thing seemed to him to be 
the affirmation of a universal order conformable to 
reason. ‘Thus from this restricted polytheism, in which 
the ancient beliefs found their rightful place, the idea 
of a divine sovereignty, characterized at once by perfec- 
tion and by power, was definitely detached. It was not, 
however, an absolutely unlimited power; a certain dualism 
was still present in the thought of the philosopher, who 
believed it necessary for the explanation of evil. Ac- 
cording to him, the divine power, while wishing only the 
good and seeking to realize it by creation, was able to 
create it only in matter, that is to say, finitely and im- 
perfectly. Thus the way was opened which for a long 
time was to be followed by all philosophy which seeks to 
explain the paradox of ideal and real. 

Manifestly this theology tended, perforce, to throw off 
all national character. ‘This is a fact to which it is im- 
portant to call special attention. In freeing itself from 
the ancient mythology and the poetic fables, it broke the 
bonds which attached the beliefs of Greece to their native 
soil. The religion of Plato was no longer the religion 
of a definite people; there was nothing to prevent it from 
becoming a universal religion. 

Moreover, it lent itself to this development all the 
better for the reason that it completed in essential ways 
the vague or insufficient data of tradition. Plato was, 
in fact, the first to undertake to demonstrate method- 
ically the immortality of the soul by a series of proofs 
which seemed to him to supplement one another. Under 
the influence of Pythagorean and Orphic suggestions, 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 181 


which he interpreted and transposed to suit his purpose, 
he originated a doctrine which he developed especially in 
the Meno, the Phedrus, aud the Republic. He asserted 
that the soul of man, in acquiring a body, carried with 
it more or less vague memories of a previous life, in which 
it had had the intuition of substantial realities which 
the intelligence alone could comprehend. And he taught 
that the soul, according as it succeeded more or less in 
reviving these memories by reflection and by the power 
of reasoning brought into contact with sensitive impres- 
sions, prepared for itself a more or less happy lot in sub- 
sequent existences. ‘To this doctrine he added—draw- 
ing inspiration from Orphism and the Mysteries, but 
freely adapting these borrowings to his own ideas—the 
conception of a judgment of the dead, of punishments 
and rewards, and of a cycle of transformations, to which 
he assigned as a consummation, as the supreme end to be 
achieved, a return to the pure contemplation of God. 
It was in this way that his philosophy sought to answer 
the troublesome questions which men had been asking 
themselves even before his day; and altho his answers 
made no claim to absolute certainty, they were at least 
supported by reasoning and suggestions with which many 
minds desirous of spiritual reassurance were able to con- 
tent themselves. : 

Moral Value of the Platonic Religion—This religion 
was closely bound up in the metaphysics of Plato with 
his morality. According to him, as a matter of fact, the 
things we know by the senses owed their reality only to 
their participation in pure essences which he called Ideas, 
and which could be known only by Reason. But the 
highest of these Ideas, that which he sometimes seemed to 
identify with God himself, was the Idea of God. He 
thought, therefore, that every effort of the soul should 


182 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


tend toward the fullest possible possession of this Idea— 
which was tantamount to saying that the purest cult, 
the one most worthy of God, and also the best for man, 
was virtue. But this virtue, as he conceived it, could not 
be reduced to ordinary honesty, to the mere conscientious 
observation of justice, to the practice of courage or 
temperance, or to simple obedience to the laws. ‘The new 
element which he introduced into it, the principal element 
in his eyes, was constant aspiration toward the Ideal. 
He pictured virtue as a continuous ascension, whereby 
the soul, detaching itself and drawing further and further 
away from the world of the senses, was always rising 
higher and higher, to the point of rendering itself, in 
so far as humanly possible, similar to God himself. 
Moreover, it seemed to him that this progressive develop- 
ment of spiritual life, directed in its course toward the 
Supreme Good, was at once the necessary condition and 
the surest guarantee of happiness. It is in this respect 
that Platonic philosophy surpassed in a singular man- 
ner all the other forms of ancient morality, and that it 
still remains, after more than twenty centuries, one of 
the noblest assertions of the tendencies of the human 
conscience. 

The Philosophy of Plato as Science.—But if it presents 
itself from this point of view as a veritable religion, no 
one can fail to recognize the fact that it is also to be 
looked upon, with at least as much right, as a science, or 
rather as a synthesis of many sciences. The school 
founded by Plato in Athens in 387 s.c., called the Acad- 
emy, was indeed one of the most active centers of study 
and learned research in all Greece prior to Aristotle. 
Plato himself considered mathematics indispensable to 
philosophy. He devoted himself with indefatigable ardor 
to the science of numbers, to geometry, to astronomy, 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 183 


and also to the understanding of nature. A continuator 
of Pythagoras, Empedocles, and Heraclitus, he wished to 
neglect nothing pertaining to their researches, and he 
sought also to develop what they had discovered. The 
conception of the universe set forth by him in the Timeus 
reveals a mind rich in varied branches of knowledge, 
employing all the materials previously amassed by Hel- 
lenic science, and at the same time sufficiently resourceful 
to adapt them to his personal views. Here, however, we 
have to consider, above all, what he did for logic, 
psychology, and political science. 

It is to him especially that we owe our knowledge of 
logic prior to Aristotle, as practiced by the Eleatics, the 
Sophists, Socrates, and the Megarian School. ‘There is 
no doubt that Plato, in practicing logic himself, in giving 
it, in his dialogs, the form of a dramatic action, sharpened 
it, made it more flexible, and disciplined it—in a word, 
perfected it. With him the so-called Socratic method, as 
defined above, acquired all its efficacy. We see it ap- 
pearing in numerous forms, with as much adroitness as 
surety. Definition, analysis, comparison, induction, and 
deduction—each played its part in these vigorous and re- 
fined, sometimes even subtle, argumentations. But the 
Platonic system of dialectics goes well beyond that; it 
does not stop, as did the Socratic logic, with definitions ; 
it is no longer even a simple method of reasoning. It 
embraces a complete education of the mind, an entire 
intellectual discipline, which proposes to accustom reason 
to detach itself more and more from concrete things, in 
order to render it capable of elevating itself to the highest 
degree of abstraction, where, for Plato, the supreme real- 
ity is to be found. 

His psychology is in a sense a reflection of this logic. 
Altho it does not form a very well defined entity, never- 


184 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


theless a few traits of it stand forth prominently and 
enable us to characterize it. The distinction of the three 
parts of the soul, which he calls reason, generous senti- 
ments, and sensual appetites, far as it may come from 
satisfying the exigencies of exact observation, is none the 
less a first attempt at analysis and classification, the value 
of which must be admitted. With this fundamental dis- 
tinction is codrdinated that of desire and the will, which 
is only a corollary of it. But it was especially in the 
study of the operations of the intelligence that Plato 
manifested his perspicacity. Nobody had as yet under- 
taken with such care to give account of the nature of 
knowledge and of the diverse forms in which it appears. 
It is well known how he distinguished between these forms 
by means of a double scale, placing, on the one side, in- 
ferior knowledge, which he sub-divided into conjectural 
opinion and judgment, and, on the other side, superior 
knowledge, which is at first reflection and in its perfected 
form becomes science. It is to the elaboration of this 
last conception that he is especially attached. ‘To him is 
due the credit for having defined this last degree of knowl- 
edge, which is the full possession of the object, completely 
permeated by intelligence. And if perhaps he did not 
define with sufficient clarity the limits of the domain ac- 
cessible to the human mind, he at least saw how far it 
ought to extend. 

As for his politics, it was by no means summed up, as 
is too often believed, in the construction of a utopia 
founded upon communism. ‘The state portrayed in his 
Republic is not, for him, a real state; it is a sort of sug- 
gestive hypothesis which he uses to bring out clearly the 
defects of the majority of human communities and the 
passions that divide them. Better than anybody else be- 
fore him, he saw and demonstrated how close the relation 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 185 


is between the character of a people and the form of its 
government; better than anybody else he succeeded in 
bringing to light this fundamental truth, that sound po- 
litical customs are what make sound governments; and 
in clear-cut traits he defined the conditions from which 
result the solidity or instability of institutions. In short, 
the Republic is full of profound observations, which have 
become precious acquisitions for political science. 

Influence of Plato.—All in all, it is in Plato’s work that 
philosophy is revealed for the first time as the synthesis 
of all the sciences. It is true that none of the parts of 
this great body of knowledge was as yet either sufficiently 
developed or even delimited with the desirable accuracy. 
This important synthesis therefore called for a series of 
revisions, which demanded long and patient analyses. 
But the genius of Plato had perceived everything from a 
lofty perspective. After him it was necessary for obser- 
vation and experience to do their work in order to con- 
trol, correct, reform, or develop his views one by one. 
To his pupil, Aristotle, is due the honor of having begun 
this work and of having thus marked out some of the 
courses which scientific inquiry was destined to follow 
in the future. 


(2) ARIsTOTLE 


Réle and Character of Aristotle—Very different from 
Plato, the marvelous teacher in whom the Athenian 
genius had found one of its best interpreters, was Aris- 
totle of Stagira, in Macedonia, who had none of his sen- 
sibility or of his poetic imagination. He was a born ob- 
server. A sense of exactitude, a desire for accuracy, and 
a passion for research were combined in him with a pene- 
trating discernment and force of thought. It is because 


186 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


he succeeded in subjecting the study of facts to a sound 
and logical method that he appears to us as the most 
excellent representative of the scientific spirit in antiquity, 
or, better said, as one of the fathers of modern science. 

Principles of His Method.—Without entering here into 
the details of his metaphysics, it is necessary to recall at 
least some of the fundamental principles which explain his 
method. According to him, every determinate thing pro- 
ceeds form four causes: 1, the substance of which it is 
made; 2, the form which modifies this substance and de- 
termines it; 3, a movement whereby the transformation 
from the substance to the form is effected; 4, an end 
which is the reason for this movement. In the case of 
substance, that which is to be called into existence has at 
first only a potential existence ; the motive cause, in effect- 
ing the transformation from the indeterminate to the 
determinate, realizes this existence in fact. ‘This realiza- 
tion tends toward a term which is the best possible state 
for that thing, its final cause. From this it results that 
observation, with Aristotle, is dominated by the idea of 
finality. According to this principle, one truly knows 
any given object at all that exists, or its parts, only if one 
has discovered its purpose or end. It is in this respect 
that science, as Aristotle conceived it, differs most from 
modern science, the latter, since Bacon, having systematic- 
ally discarded all inquiry into the end or purpose of 
things. But the truth is that the difference, essential 
as it may be in theory, is much less important in practice. 
For, on the one hand, Aristotle in his numerous observa- 
tions generally does nothing more than indicate the rela- 
tion of the effects which he notes to their efficient causes ; 
and, on the other hand, the science of life can not study 
an organ without seeking to discover what purpose it 
serves. 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 187 


The Study of Nature.—It was perhaps in the vast do- 
main of natural science that the genius of Aristotle re- 
vealed its value most clearly. Until his time nature 
had been investigated but partially; he was the first to 
conceive the plan of a methodical and universal investiga- 
tion. To gather for this purpose the greatest possible 
amount of material, seemed to him the indispensable task. 
The ten books of his History of Aximals bear witness to 
the zealous enthusiasm which he brought to this work, 
as also to the variety of inquiries which he directed or 
inspired. And without doubt they also show us how dif- 
ficult it was at that time to procure positive information, 
and to what extent the knowledge of the living world was 
still imperfect. But the example thus set was none the 
less excellent. It devolved upon Aristotle to develop these 
collected materials scientifically; and in his second work 
the power of his genius shone forth. His remarkable 
treatises On the Organs of Animals, On the Motion of 
Animals, and On the Generation of Animals, show us how 
he proceeded in this work. His penetrating mind ex- 
celled in analyzing complex facts, in finding their simple 
elements, in comparing them according to their similari- 
ties, and in classifying them. He was no less skillful, 
moreover, in discovering the connections of phenomena 
and their obscure and until then unperceived relations ; 
and intuition, so necessary to the scholar, illumined his 
observation and made it more fruitful. Finally, the logi- 
cal vigor of his thought enabled him better than anybody 
else, by virtue of the power of reasoning, to pass from 
knowledge already possessed to new knowledge. And 
there his prudence as an observer placed him on his guard 
against the danger of hasty conclusions. One of the 
things to be admired in him is the scrupulous care with 
which he collected everything that had previously been 


188 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


said on the subjects in question, as also the care which 
he took to anticipate objections and, when he was unable 
to meet them, to admit the fact without ceremony. Such, 
in a general way, is the method which he did not cease 
to apply to the natural sciences, whether in the works 
which he himself wrote, or in those which were afterwards 
written under his inspiration, on physics, on plants, and 
on celestial phenomena. 

The Moral Sciences.—In the moral sciences we find the 
same spirit, the same method, the same results. Here, 
too, it is with close observation of facts that his inquiry 
begins. His morality, condensed in the Nichomachean 
Ethics, leads us to presuppose a preliminary work which 
consisted in noting the forms of moral life, in distin- 
guishing and defining them. From this inquiry there arose 
the general ideas which dominate the entire work. Here 
we recognize the natural moderation of his mind, even in 
certain particularly contestable points such as the concep- 
tion of virtue as a mean between two excesses; and here, 
too, we find his most personal instincts, for example, in 
the value attributed to the contemplative life, which 
seemed to him the most complete realization of happiness. 
Closely related to this morality, his Politics proceeds from 
the same method. Besides the dogmatic work which bears 
this title, we possess also fragments of a collection on 
Constitutions, in which the institutions of numerous states 
have been brought together and reviewed. ‘The nature 
of this collection can be judged by the Republic of the 
Athenians recently discovered in Egypt, which, if it was 
not a part of that work, serves at least as a sort of sample 
of it. The Politics itself abounds in references to laws, 
customs, various constitutions, and a thousand historical 
events carefully presented by the author. It is from ex- 
perience that he wishes to derive all his teachings, but 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 189 


from an experience interpreted by reason. Thus we find 
specified and formulated the idea of the family and the 
city, the distinction between their elements, the theory 
of the various forms of government, as well as the theory 
of the dangers which constantly beset them and of the 
means of guarding against these dangers—in a word, 
a veritable philosophy of human social communities, the 
most instructive and most complete that antiquity has 
handed down to us. 

Study of the Human Mind.—No less curious to know 
the human mind in itself and in its operations than to 
know the life of the universe and of the beings inhabiting 
it, Aristotle applied himself with the same zeal and the 
same perspicacity to observing and describing the former. 
While his treatise On the Soul marks brilliantly the begin- 
ning of methodical psychology, the works which, taken 
together, comprise what the Middle Ages designated by 
the collective name of Organon gave permanent currency 
to a certain number of fundamental observations on the 
necessary forms of thought, on its relations to language, 
on the structure of deductive reasoning, and on the 
sophisms, as also the means of discovering them (Cate- 
gories, On the Expression of Mind, Analytics, and 
Topics). Few writings have exerted a more profound or 
more lasting influence than these. To be sure, this in- 
fluence was excessive during certain ages, but more en- 
lightened modern criticism has been able to restrain it 
without denying it; for there is no doubt that it is justified 
by an important body of finely conceived truths. Finally, 
his Rhetoric and his Poetics are also solid studies of cer- 
tain faculties of the mind and their productions; and here 
again observation plays a no less important part. In 
the case of the former, it is observation of customs and of 
passions; in the latter, we have a review of the resources 


190 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


of the poetic art, precepts drawn from the history of 
literary forms and based upon the psychology of readers 
or spectators. Altogether it is a doctrine in no sense 
abstract, but, on the contrary, inspired by a profound 
knowledge of realities. 

The Academy and the Lyceum.—But neither Aristotle 
nor Plato, great as they were, are to be considered 
separately if one wishes to appreciate the part attribut- 
able to them in the general progress of Hellenic civiliza- ' 
tion. Both were founders of schools, promoters of 
intellectual activities which were at first directed by them 
and then perpetuated after them. The Academy, founded 
by Plato, was represented after him, in the fourth cen- 
tury, by Speusippus, Xenocrates, and Polemon. It was 
a school of metaphysicists, mathematicians, and moral- 
ists, and we shall see it continuing and undergoing trans- 
formations in the following centuries, until the time when 
many of its doctrines are absorbed in Christianity. The 
Lyceum, founded by Aristotle and afterwards directed 
by Theophrastus, was itself to produce, up to the time 
of the Empire, a long series of philosophers, known by 
the name of Peripatetics and generally animated by the 
spirit of positive curiosity which had characterized the 
master from whom they claimed heritage. Further on 
we shall see them joining forces with the intellectual move- 
ment of another epoch. 


(3) ANTISTHENES AND ARISTIPPUS 


Other Philosophic Schools.—None of the other philoso- 
phies in the fourth century had an importance comparable 
with those of the Academy and the Lyceum. In a survey 
of the civilization of that time, however, it is impossible 
to overlook the names of Antisthenes and Aristippus, since 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 191 


from them were to emerge schools which had the most 
brilliant fortune in the following period. 

Antisthenes.—It is in the moral side of his teachings 
that Antisthenes especially affirms his originality. Be- 
lieving, as did his teacher, Socrates, that morality is the 
science of happiness and that happiness is identical with 
virtue, he was led by the irreconcilability of his mind to 
carry this affirmation to the extreme. He wished to be 
the personal enemy of pleasure; and this he was with an 
ardent conviction, to the point of paradox, all the more 
so because he was a subtle and forceful reasoner, a man 
of brains, and a skillful writer. His dialogs enjoyed 
great success. It is doubtful whether he convinced many 
of his readers; but he interested them and amused them 
by piquant satires, by a mordant criticism of customs, 
perhaps by allusions which pleased their malignity. The 
severity of his life, moreover, added prestige to his teach- 
ings. He took pride in his poverty. His pupils, as it 
happens, went still further than he did along the course 
of renunciation and disdainful abstinence. Diogenes 
of Sinope inaugurated Cynicism properly so-called, a 
haughty and somewhat ostentatious protest of stern 
austerity, not only against luxury and ease, but also 
against the very habits of mankind, including politeness, 
discretion, and good behavior. He had continuators. 
This strange manner of living on the margin of society, 
and almost in revolt against it, is not one of the least 
characteristic traits of this time so favorable to in- 
dividualism. From this tradition, combined with a few 
different elements, there was to emerge at the end of the 
century the Stoicism of Zeno, of which we shall have 
something to say further on. 

Aristippus.—In a society in which each individual was 
more than ever free to live according to his taste, it was 


192 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


inevitable that a contrary tendency should oppose itself 
to this asceticism. ‘The man who set this opposition up 
as a doctrine was another follower of Socrates, Aristippus 
of Cyrene. Since his principle was that happiness is only 
an aggregate of pleasures, he professed that the search 
for pleasure is the natural law of life, since every living 
being instinctively wishes to be happy. From this point 
of view, the pleasures of the senses seemed to him as 
justifiable as those of the mind. This is what he set 
forth in writings which had a certain vogue. Lax as 
this morality was, it is nevertheless to be noted that the 
sense of moderation so natural to the Greek mind did not 
fail to make itself felt even here. Aristippus by no means 
lived in gross debauchery; his was a fine, cultivated mind 
which wished that in everything man should take counsel 
from reason. His own practical sense and good taste cor- 
rected in him, to a certain extent, the error of his teach- 
ing. Moreover, one may regard him as representing 
fairly well the average morality of a large number of his 
contemporaries. But just as the lessons of Antisthenes 
were converted by the Cynics into a defiance directed 
against humanity, so the doctrines of Aristippus led the 
Cyrenaics to the denial of all discipline. His true thought 
was to be taken up once more at the end of the cen- 
tury, with more moderation and a deeper understanding 
for philosophy, by Epicurus, who, as we shall see, or- 
ganized it into a carefully constructed system. 


CHAPTER IV 
THE ARTS 


The Art of the Fourth Century.—As is natural, the 
changes which took place in the fourth century in cus- 
toms, sentiments, and ideas, and which are reflected in the 
contemporary literature, are likewise manifest in architec- 
ture, sculpture, and painting. ‘The art of this time is 
therefore easily distinguished from that of the time of 
Pericles, from which it is nevertheless a direct outgrowth. 
The fact is that the art of the fourth century, without re- 
nouncing the simple lines, the purity of conceptions, and 
the intimate harmony from which the Greek genius was un- 
able to abstain as long as it remained true to itself, be- 
comes less severe and, so to speak, less abstract. At this 
time people admire more than ever before the nobility and 
serene beauty of the works of Ictinus, Phidias, and 
Alcamenes, but a more concrete imitation of life is now 
demanded of the artists; and the latter, on their part, 
respond to his demand with a more careful study of move- 
ment and variety. Thus there appears an art inferior in 
nobility and in ideal significance, but at the same time 
charming and distinguished by a fascinating elegance and 
a graceful freedom which enables each artist better to 
assert his own personality. 


(1) ARCHITECTURE 
Evolution of Architecture—In architecture, the cen- 


tury of Pericles had created models from which it was 
193 


194 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


thereafter impossible to get away. The Greek temple 
had been designed once for all; its form and even its 
essential proportions were established as something in- 
tangible. It was therefore in ornamentation, in mat- 
ters of detail, and in the adaptation to given conditions, 
that the inventive originality of the artists of the fourth 
century was especially able to exercise itself. A few 
monuments yet standing, and numerous others the ruins 
of which, at least, may be usefully examined, still per- 
mit us to form a fairly accurate idea of these qualities. 

They reveal the ever-increasing popularity of the Ionic 
order and the success of the Corinthian style, the latter 
scarcely known in the preceding period. Both tended to 
prevail over the more severe Doric order which had previ- 
ously predominated. More and more it becomes their ob- 
ject to please the eye. The Ionic order grows more or- 
nate, more graceful, and acquires a more varied decoration, 
as evidenced by the ruins of the Didymeum at Miletus, 
those of the Temple of Athena at Priene, the tomb of King 
Mausolus at Halicarnassus, and other monuments of the 
time. The Corinthian order crowns its pillars or columns 
with capitals composed of an ornamental design of acan- 
thus leaves, sometimes set off by colors which add force to 
its reliefs and carvings. All edifices are adapted to this 
new style. The decoration becomes more delicate; it is 
animated, as it were, and diversified; it calls for ingenious 
inventions. Even small edifices, thus adorned, present to 
the eye one of the most pleasing spectacles—as, for in- 
stance, the choragic monument of Lysicrates at Athens, 
with its graceful form, its slenderness, the fantasy of its 
circular frieze picturing a little drama with numerous 
characters, the elegance of its crown surmounted by a 
tripod of victory which is set off on a support of volutes. 

At this time, moreover, architecture is called upon to 


THE ARTS 195 


satisfy new demands. It is in the fourth century that 
stone theaters begin to be erected in the Greek cities. 
Altho the general tendency of these edifices is only to re- 
produce in their broad lines the wooden theaters of the 
preceding century, it is none the less evident that, being 
built to last, they are in reality an entirely new thing. 
A few general rules are laid down and little by little per- 
fected thru experience. The object is to realize the best 
possible conditions: to permit the performance to be seen 
by a large audience, to permit the voices of the actors 
to be easily heard, to insure the ready entrance and de- 
parture of the crowd, and to facilitate the production of 
the play; and naturally these conditions vary accord- 
ing to the locality. Especially the stage and its ap- 
purtenances demand the concurrence of various artists, 
to whom the architect must furnish his general plan and 
conception. And altho today it is often difficult to de- 
termine positively, under the ruins of later constructions, 
what is characteristic of this particular time, there is no 
doubt that the unity of the effect had been preserved 
without destroying the variety of the details. The archi- 
tectural type of the theater was undoubtedly one of the 
most brilliant creations of the art of the fourth century. 


(2) scuLPTURE 


In sculpture we find the same tendencies, still more 
clearly characterized. They are represented by artists 
whose names have remained illustrious—men like Scopas 
and Praxiteles in the first half of the century, and 
Lysippus somewhat later. The art of all these men, if 
one compares it with that of their predecessors, becomes, 
according to the expression of a competent critic, “more 
intimate, and frees itself from religious tradition in order 


196 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


to seek in real life an individual and personal character.” 4 
This new conception can not be disregarded, according 
to the ancient witnesses, in the work of Scopas of Paros. 
Solicited by a large number of Greek cities, which held 
it an honor to possess some of his works, he filled their 
temples with statues of gods and goddesses. But what 
we admire in these statues is not so much their divine 
majesty as it is the grace of their forms and postures, 
the suppleness of their limbs, the folds of their draperies. 
Usually there is something amiable and expressive about 
these figures, sometimes something pathetic. Thus repre- 
sented, the gods were offered to the eye as vigorous ephebes, 
radiant in youth; the goddesses as charming maidens. 
or women in the full glory of their beauty. We know 
that Scopas assisted in the construction of the Mausoleum 
at Halicarnassus, erected in 353 B. c. by order of Queen 
Artemisia of Caria; and there is nothing to prevent us 
from believing that the frieze of this monument was per- 
haps executed by his own hand, either entirely or in part, 
and, in any case, according to a model created by him. 
It is an evidence that there were associated in this master, 
together with a most lively instinct for elegance, other 
qualities of a different order. The frieze, which rep- 
resents a combat of Greeks and Amazons, is remarkable 
for its portrayal of the fury of the movements, the bold- 
ness of the postures, and the intense passion which ani- 
mates the combatants; and the dramatic invention of the 
situations, as well as the gripping representation of the 
frenzied struggle, make it particularly moving. 

The Athenian Praxiteles, a little younger than Scopas, 
was no less renowned. ‘None of the Greek artists seem 
to have possessed, to the same extent that he did, an 
innate gift of grace. All antiquity extoled his numerous 

1Collignon, Archeologie grecque, p. 187. 


THE ARTS 197 


statues of Aphrodite. Regarded as particularly worthy 
of admiration was his statue of Aphrodite of Cnidus, which 
represented the goddess at the moment when she had laid 
aside her garments for a bath—a masterpiece in which 
the artist had realized his ideal of feminine beauty, char- 
acterized by a youthful delicacy of form. For religious 
sentiment was substituted a voluptuous seductiveness. 
Under the chisel of the artist the marble acquired the ap- 
pearance of life in its full bloom. ‘This refined grace 
appears again in the figures of young gods which he loved 
to create. Nobody took so much delight as he in re- 
producing the god of love, Eros. But this Eros is no 
longer, of course, the mythological Eros of the aged 
Hesiod and the theogonies, that is, the contemporary of 
the origins of the world; nor is he any longer the divine 
personification of passion, the redoubtable god of whom 
Sophocles had sung; but rather does he represent sensual 
and yet splendid love, as conceived by the majority of 
his contemporaries. It was this love which he had 
sculptured for Phryne, and which the latter, in turn, 
wished to consecrate to the city of Thespie. Apollo, too, 
he made an ephebe, quite different from the god of the ter- 
rible arrows pictured by Homer. He showed him rather 
slender in his nudity, giving him a slightly languid pos- 
ture designed to assert the suppleness of his limbs. And 
it is still a conception akin to that which we admire in 
the Hermes of Olympia, an authentic work of his hands 
happily discovered in our own days. Somewhat mutilated 
and imperfectly restored, it bears witness to a delightful 
talent which, without perceptible effort, combines charm- 
ing sentiment with well-nigh perfect execution. 

In the second half of the century the bronze-worker, 
Lysippus of Sicyon, shows himself more attached to the 
traditions of the preceding period than do Scopas and 


198 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Praxiteles, and particularly to the work of Polyclitus, 
whose conceptions he followed. Nevertheless he, too, was 
in certain respects an innovator. Altho, like Polyclitus, 
he also liked to bring out the strength and play of the 
muscles, he applied himself, as did his contemporaries, to 
individual details, notably to the personal expression of 
the face. This is attested by the great number of effigies 
which he executed and which reproduced the features of 
the illustrious men of his day, in particular those of 
Alexander the Great. He represented the conqueror at 
various periods of his life, marking with great skill the 
changing expression of his countenance. Moreover, we 
know from the testimony of Pliny the Elder that he 
treated with minute care certain details of his figures, 
notably the hair, and that he sought to give his subjects 
an elegant slimness by lengthening the body and dimin- 
ishing the proportions of the head. This new interpreta- 
tion of nature had great success. Lysippus has been 
looked upon, with good reason, as the precursor of 
Hellenistic naturalism; and when Rome was initiated in 
the arts of Greece, he was appreciated no less than Scopas 
and Praxiteles. There came a time when the masterpieces 
of these artists served to adorn the homes of wealthy 
Romans; and it was especially under their influence that 
Latin Italy gained its artistic education. 


(3) PAINTING AND CERAMICS 


The Highest Development of Greek Painting.—It is 
necessary to repeat here, concerning painting, what has 
been said above: owing to the total disappearance of its 
works we are able to speak of it only on the faith of the 
ancient writers. From them, however, we know that the 
great painters of the fourth century, Apelles and Pro- 


THE ARTS 199 


togenes, were not only worthy successors of Zeuxis, 
Parrhasius, and Polygnotus, but even surpassed them. 
What we are told makes it very clear that they did not 
servilely continue the tradition of the masters from whom 
they inherited the art. The reputation which Apelles 
made for himself as a painter of portraits bears witness 
to a new taste for psychological analysis and a remark- 
able keenness of penetration, which is quick to comprehend 
the traits peculiar to a physiognomy and to note the out- 
ward indications which reveal the personal character. 
And it was not only the permanent traits of the individual 
that he thus discovered; he excelled in giving expression 
to the agitations of the soul, such as vehement emotions 
or temporary anxieties. Delicate sentiments, shades of 
moral life, no longer escaped him; and for the expression 
of them the precision of his brush was marvelous. Never 
before, beyond all doubt, had life in its extreme variety 
been imitated with such perfection. Apelles was very 
nearly in painting what Philemon and Menander were in 
poetry. We should not be surprised that he shared with 
Lysippus the favor of Alexander. His reputation, more- 
over, seems to have been almost equaled by that of his 
contemporary, Protogenes. It is impossible, today, to 
say in what respects they differed from each other. 
Among the minor arts, that of the coroplasts and vase- 
painters deserves especially to be mentioned, in order to 
complete the picture which we are drawing in broad lines. 
There is nothing which acquaints us better with the 
familiar aspects of the Greek civilization of this time. 
To the fourth century, as a matter of fact, belong the 
majority of those pretty figurines of baked earth which 
today are found in all our museums and in all collections 
of amateurs, and which have popularized in particular 
the name of the little Beotian town of Tanagra. LEvery- 


200 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


body has seen some of these slender statuettes of young 
girls or young women which have given us so much 
knowledge of the amusing and gracious details of a re- 
fined coquetry. It is a pleasure to the eye to gaze upon 
their elegance and exquisite grace, to study the natural- 
ness of their postures and the adjustment of their 
draperies, to get an insight into every-day life in its amus- 
ing variety—the walk, the more or less serious meditation, 
and the games of childhood or of adolescence. As for 
the series of painted vases referred to above, it was con- 
tinued without interruption, and we owe to it also some 
truly living documents—banquet scenes, scenes in the 
palestra and in the home, each of them a precise illustra- 
tion of the customs which have been described above. In 
the Athenian ceramics, in particular, the decorative art 
attains at this time a delicacy of execution and a dis- 
tinction of style in which there is manifested, as clearly 
as in the works of such writers as Lysias or Menander, 
everything that is peculiar to Atticism. 


PART IV 


THE LAST PERIODS OF HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 





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CHAPTER I 
THE HELLENISTIC KINGDOMS 


The Decline of Hellenic Civilization At the time of 
the death of Alexander there begins, for Hellenic civiliza- 
tion, the long period of its decline. This period lasted 
eight centuries, if we fix the end at the time when the last 
important creation of Greek thought, Neo-platonism, be- 
came extinct. It is true that another civilization had al- 
ready commenced, that of Byzantium, a mixture of 
Hellenism and Christianity; but in the history of human 
affairs all distinctions necessarily have something arbi- 
trary about them. This term “decline” has in itself only 
a quite relative value; for the fact is that these eight 
centuries were by no means unproductive. It is in 
works of imagination and sentiment that the diminution 
of the Greek genius makes itself most keenly felt. We 
shall see the cause of this and we shall endeavor to under- 
stand the type of intellectual petrifaction which was fatal 
to great poetry. But the environment in which these 
works were created did not show itself so unfavorable to the 
search for truth or to meditation on the conduct of life. 
Learning, science, and philosophy continued to develop; 
and what they produced at that time can not be overlooked 
in a general survey of Hellenic civilization. This is 
especially so because on the whole the work of these 
periods of relative decadence transmitted this civilization 
to the following centuries, having deprived it of its ex- 

203 


204 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


treme individualism and having better adapted it, con- 
sequently, to the general needs of humanity. 

The Greek World after the Death of Alecander.—When 
Alexander the Great died at the end of his prodigious 
conquests, the peoples of the Orient subjugated by him 
laid themselves open to Hellenic influences. In learning 
to speak Greek, they made themselves susceptible to the 
ideas and sentiments of Greece. Everything, in fact, 
which the Hellenic genius had produced in the way of 
poetry, science, philosophy, history, and artistic creations 
thus became the common heritage of civilized humanity. 
But in the process of diffusion this heritage could not 
remain unaltered. On the one hand, the peoples who 
took possession of it ignored what they did not under- 
stand and what was not adapted to their own culture; 
on the other hand, they introduced new elements into it, 
some borrowed from their past, others related to the politi- 
cal and social institutions which were springing up at that 
time. 

It is well known how the Macedonian generals, after the 
death of the conqueror, fell into conflict among them- 
selves, and how in the midst of bloody quarrels they 
divided up his legacy. Here we need recall only that out 
of the remains of his empire there developed a certain 
number of kingdoms, among which we should mention in 
particular that of Egypt under the Lagide (Ptolemies), 
that of Syria under the Seleucida, that of Pergamus 
under the Attalide, and that of Macedonia under the 
Antigonide. Alongside of these kingdoms existed a 
few Greek city-states, more or less independent accord- 
ing to the times and the circumstances, but for the 
most part survivals of mediocre importance. ‘The char- 
acteristic fact of this so-called “Hellenistic Period” was 
the establishment and organization of these kingdoms. 


THE HELLENISTIC KINGDOMS 205 


The Absolute Monarchies; their Character.—All of 
them were military monarchies, founded upon the ab- 
solute power of one man. In each of them a sovereign will 
dominated. ‘There were no more elected magistrates, but 
only a hereditary ruler served by those whom he himself 
chose; and consequently there were no more citizens, but 
only subjects. .In Greece itself we now find the old free 
city-states subject to local tyrants, clients of the kings. 
Hence, there is no more political life, properly speaking; 
what here and there remains of it, by way of exception, 
scarcely transcends the municipal horizon—petty internal 
quarrels involving small interests. A few groups, like the 
Achean and Attolian Leagues, soon reduced to the neces- 
sity of placing themselves under the protection of the 
dominating powers, appear but rarely and then only to 
prove by their short duration the permanent extinction of 
the autonomous republics. The great monarchies alone 
still have a life truly worthy of attention; and they alone 
give the civilization of this time its distinctive physi- 
ognomy. 

Essentially military in origin and condemned to re- 
main so by reason of being almost constantly at war with 
one another, these monarchies depended upon powerful 
armies organized in the best possible manner. It was 
in the army, therefore, that the power of the state rested. 
And these armies, created and maintained by the royal 
treasury, were composed entirely of mercenaries, devoid 
of civic spirit and entirely in the hands of the king. In 
order to supply his treasury, it was necessary for all the 
resources of the country to be placed at his disposal. 
Hence the need of an administration such as free Greece 
had never known. Royal functionaries were assisted by 
secretaries, counselors, and agents of all ranks—in short, 
by an entire hierarchy, which regulated even the activ- 


206 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


ity of the people, controled production under the pretext 
of stimulating and codrdinating it, and canalized the 
public wealth to the profit of the treasury. Thus con- 
centrated, a large part of it was expended in incessant 
wars, in royal extravagances, and in the pomp of the 
courts; another large part remained in the hands of those 
who were charged with collecting it; another, finally, was 
used for things that were truly useful; and this last was 
certainly not the principal part. Everything considered, 
such a régime was calculated to enrich a limited class; 
and in the long run it was bound to exhaust the people, 
to paralyze private initiative, and to engender a diminu- 
tion of truly creative energy. 

Those of the monarchies which were properly Oriental, 
the monarchy of the Seleucide, and that of the Lagide, 
inheritors of the traditions of Asia and of Egypt, did not 
' confer upon their representatives merely military and 
political power; they made gods of them. ‘To the na- 
tional religions and to those of Greece were added the 
cult of the king; he became for his subjects an object of 
worship. A divine majesty surrounded his person. It 
was not enough for him to impose obedience upon all; it 
was necessary to impose adoration as well. Until then 
confined to the Orient, these sentiments now penetrated 
into the Greek world, and the consecration which they re- 
ceived there was instrumental in causing them to be ac- 
cepted later on in the Roman world. 

The Capitals and the Courts.—These kings of the 
Hellenistic period were all, in imitation of Alexander, 
founders of cities. Usually it was about new cities 
founded by them, or about old cities transformed by them, 
that the administration and military defense of their 
kingdoms were organized. To these cities they often 
gave names suggestive of their own names, or those of 


THE HELLENISTIC KINGDOMS 207 


members of their families, as if in order to inscribe upon 
the soil the titles of their dynasties. Each kingdom, in 
any case, had its capital, which was the seat of its power. 
Rapidly these privileged cities—Alexandria, Antioch, 
Pergamus, and Syracuse—residences of the kings, ac- 
quired an exceptional importance. It was not long before 
they surpassed all the others in wealth, in size, in beauti- 
ful monuments, in population, in business activity, and in 
ceremonies and spectacles of which they were the seat. 
Each of these monarchs had to have a palace in which he 
could with dignity hold court and receive guests. For 
the absolute monarchy requires a brilliant entourage 
which will do honor to it. It is not content with the 
royal officers and the multitude of servitors. It is anxious 
to represent all Hellenic civilization; and for that reason 
it attracts the poets, historians, scholars, and artists. 
The latter thereafter must glorify the princes, commemo- 
rate events of their reigns, and give the greatest possible 
brilliancy to the ceremonies which they celebrate. These 
capitals also become renowned centers of culture. A 
spirit of emulation manifests itself in this regard among 
the leaders of the states. Almost all of them gratify their 
vanity by founding libraries for the collection of manu- 
scripts, the latter often purchased at great expense. 
None of these libraries was more celebrated or important 
than that of Alexandria, inaugurated by Ptolemy Phil- 
adelphus; and his intention of making the city a seat 
of learning is still more clearly marked by the establish- 
ment of the Museum, a sort of Academy where men of 
learning and of letters gathered together, pensioned by 
the royal treasury. Altho scarcely equaling Alexandria, 
other cites, notably Pergamus, also had their schools, 
their sages, and their libraries. It was thru these 
foundations, and these new conditions of life, that the 


208 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


writers became clients of the kings. In this way especially 
the literature of the time acquired its peculiar character ; 
but it also fell under the influence of a social state of 
which it seems best to point out the principal char- 
acteristics. 

Society and Classes. Diffusion of Hellenic Civiliza- 
tion.—Most striking is the disappearance of the popular 
element. The people as such, who were almost everything 
in the Greek republics, were no longer of any importance 
in the Hellenistic kingdoms. The peasants, absorbed in 
a daily labor which hardly sufficed to meet the demands 
of the public treasury, no longer counted from the politi- 
cal point of view. Moreover, they became less and less 
numerous; for the city life had a powerful attraction for 
them. But how was the population of the cities com- 
posed? A wealthy aristocracy, a numerous body of of- 
ficials, held the first rank; around them gravitated a 
clientele of freedmen, tradespeople, and parasites, who 
lived in their shadow, so to speak, and in dependence upon 
them. An army of slaves surrounded and served them. 
There was no middle class, properly speaking, since the in- 
stitutions did not insure to persons of moderate fortune 
any of the guarantees which would make them truly free- 
men. On the other hand, in the large cities we find an ill- 
defined crowd, a confused populace, in which men of diverse 
conditions and professions mingled, often differing even 
among themselves'in respect to religion and nationality, and 
devoid of any civic spirit. In other words, they formed a 
multitude now passive, now turbulent, agitated sometimes 
by sudden and violent movements, but incapable of any 
concerted and continuous action. Altogether, it is an en- 
vironment without original character and without a com- 
mon ideal; and in this environment there is only one truly 
cultivated class, a small class in which imitation of the 


THE HELLENISTIC KINGDOMS 209 


princely courts dominates, its members consequently 
seeking elegance, intellectual refinement, and good breed- 
ing, but incapable of producing anything truly original 
and new. 

In this condition of the world Hellenic civilization no- 
where encountered any strong resistance. With rare ex- 
ceptions, the most notable of which was Judaism, the old 
civilizations were no longer in a position to stand in its 
way. In these spurious kingdoms, created by rival ambi- 
tions, patriotism had lost all its virtue. The ancient 
traditions were effaced; no group of people possessed the 
elements of a moral solidarity based upon a deep-rooted 
attachment to the same traditions. The conquering 
Greeks alone furnished to these disorganized multitudes 
a fund of ideas and sentiments sufficiently developed to 
satisfy the eternal needs of humanity. Moreover, Hel- 
lenic civilization alone lent itself to the broadened require- 
ments which the intermingling of the nations had rendered 
necessary. For it embodied a principle of progress and 
of liberty which permitted it to modify itself without 
denying its past, and consequently to adapt itself con- 
tinually to the new conditions. ‘This adaptation was the 
essential work of the Hellenistic period. It was accom- 
plished at once by disseminating the wealth of knowledge 
and thought which Greece had previously amassed and 
by realizing, or preparing, in morality, in philosophy, 
and in religion, some syncretisms which were acceptable 
wherever the Greek language had penetrated. 


o 


CHAPTER II 


HELLENISTIC LITERATURE 


(1) IMAGINATIVE LITERATURE 


General Characteristics of this Literature.—All the 
great sources of inspiration having been exhausted, it was 
natural that the society of that time sought its pleasure 
in restricted works, the only ones which were suited to 
its nature; and these works had to please it especially 
by the harmony of their details and the ingenuity of their 
structure. Such is the general character of the imagina- 
tive literature of the third century. Moreover, this same 
literature continues to grow poorer and poorer every day 
in the two following centuries. Nevertheless, some of its 
productions are read and enjoyed even to this day; and 
having served as models for some good Latin poets, such 
as Tibullus, Propertius, Ovid, and even Virgil, they have 
inspired imitation even down to modern times. ‘That is 
why, without tarrying long over them, we cannot well 
disregard them altogether. 

Epic Poetry, Elegy, and Epigram.—Epic poetry had 
never entirely disappeared in Greece, altho history and 
tragedy had deprived it, in the fifth century, of its prin- 
cipal reason for existence. In the Hellenistic period it 
made a curious effort to rejuvenate itself in a less ample 
but more learned form. The Argonautica of Apollonius 
of Rhodes, which we still possess, furnishes the principal 


evidence of this; and at the same time it reveals pre- 
210 


HELLENISTIC LITERATURE 211 


cisely what made the success of this effort impossible. 
A work of erudition and of imitation, it lacks at once 
national and religious interest, which is essential to the 
epic form, and it also dispenses with the variety of human 
passions, which is no less important. A single episode, 
that of the love of Medea, is still readable today. Here 
the gods no longer play anything more than cold and 
artificial roles. In fact, mythology was dead. More- 
over, other writers of epic poems preferred to take sub- 
jects from history. Neither the Messeniaca of Rhianus 
of Crete, nor other poems of the same kind, have come 
down to us; and there is probably no occasion to regret 
it. Didactic poetry, imitated from that of Hesiod, seems 
better suited to this period of scientific curiosity and 
erudition. This accounts for the success of the astronom- 
ical poem of Aratus of Soli (first half of the third cen- 
tury) and of the medical poems of Nicander of Colophon 
(Theriaca and Remedies, second century), which have 
come down to us. ‘The poetic sentiment in them was of 
no account. 

The elegy, freer from artificialities and less imbued with 
traditions transformed into rules, did not present the 
same difficulties. No form at that time was practiced 
more or enjoyed more. It took the place, to a certain 
extent, either of epic poetry, now no longer of any 1m- 
portance, or of the more or less abandoned forms of 
lyric poetry, in which vivifying inspiration was lack- 
ing. It lent itself either to agreeable narration of love 
adventures, which pleased a public very sensitive to the 
influence of women, or to the recollection of historical and 
mythological antiquities, to explaining old customs and 
institutions, or, further, to extoling the kings and to 
lending support to the ceremonies of the official religion. 
Skillful in assuming many forms, it adroitly mixed a little 


212 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


sentiment with abundant learning and made the best of 
old subjects by the introduction of pretty details. This 
was the merit of Philetas of Cos and especially of the 
prolific Callimachus of Cyrene, who was placed at the 
head of the library of Alexandria by Ptolemy Phila- 
delphus. Both of them court poets, they made themselves 
known as masters of this favorite form, the former by 
his love elegies which were later to excite the emulation 
of Propertius, and the latter by the poems which he 
called Origins (or Causes), a lengthy and learned com- 
position in which he related to mythological legends, or 
to simple historical tales, a large number of religious or 
civil customs. A real talent for story-telling, coupled 
with a certain grace which is both lively and refined, still 
lend a certain interest and charm to the few fragments 
which have come down to us. 

From elegy one can not separate the epigram, which is, 
to tell the truth, but an elegy in miniature. By virtue of 
its very brevity it was still more apt to seize occasions on 
the wing and to please by appositeness. It was no less 
successful in presenting in a few verses a picture, a mem- 
ory, a moral thought, or an impression. Never before or 
afterwards did it achieve so much success. At that time 
we see the appearance of specialists in this form, artists in 
spirit, whose best creations, similar to finely carved medal- 
lions, have been preserved to us in the most ancient part of 
the Anthology. Some of the epigrams of Asclepiades of 
Samos, Posidippus, and Leonidas of Tarentum, to men- 
tion only a few of many names, are miniature masterpieces 
in this form, the delicacy and ingenuity of which are still 
enjoyed. 

Theocritus and the Bucolic Form.—Alongside of these 
ancient forms, artificially rejuvenated, appeared an 
original creation, the bucolic or pastoral form, to which 


HELLENISTIC LITERATURE 213 


the name of Theocritus remains attached. Altho evi- 
dently a very unfaithful picture of the life of the Sicilian 
shepherds, it was intended to please, and did please, city 
folk who were somewhat blasé, by the charming depiction 
of rustic customs and the description of rural country- 
sides. Moreover, its success was lasting. For the poet 
had a deep feeling for nature; he painted it in a few free 
and precise touches; he knew also how to express passion 
in telling language; finally, he revealed by a discreet and 
agreeable realism the element of artificiality in his com- 
positions. ‘The same qualities were in his mimes, such as 
the Magician and the Syracusans, a transformation of a 
popular form which, without making it insipid, he adapted 
to the taste of a polite society. Disdaining with reason 
the broad epic form, which he considered too heavy for 
the poets of his time, he nevertheless imitated it in episodi- 
cal narratives in which his dramatic and descriptive 
talent shone forth brilliantly. The imitations to which 
his work gave rise, first among the Latins, then in modern 
literature, had the effect of bringing out the merits of a 
model which could not be fully equaled. 

The Satiric Form.—Satiric poetry, an outgrowth of 
the iambic form and of comedy, was no longer lacking 
at that time when men were seeking to rejuvenate that 
which had grown old. It acquired some new forms, in 
the libelous and coarse verses of Sotades, who dared to 
attack a Ptolemy and paid for his insolence with his life; 
in the Sillis of the philosopher Timon of Phlius, mordant 
and pitiless adversary of every form of dogmatism; 
finally, in the diatribes of Menippus of Gadara, mixtures 
of verse and prose which from the name of their author 
came to be known as the Menippian Satires. These 
various works, today lost, and probably of mediocre 
value, nevertheless deserve to be mentioned as attesting 


214 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


the exceptional survival in the Helenistic world .of one 
of the characteristic traits of the Greek mind. 

The Drama.—As for dramatic poetry, we may say that 
it was no longer of any account, altho here and there, 
and especially at Alexandria, there were still at this time 
writers of tragedies, and altho the obscure names of seven 
of them were grouped in a “Pleiad.” The only plays en- 
joyed at that time at the numerous theaters where troupes 
of Greek actors exercised their talents, were, with a very 
few exceptions, those of the great poets of former times, 
which had now become classics. 


(2) LEARNED LITERATURE 


Principal Forms of the Learned Literature—But if the 
Hellenistic period enriched the poetic patrimony of Greece 
but slightly, it at least made a considerable contribution 
to learned literature. Philological and literary criticism, 
grammar, and even history and geography, owe much to 
the laborious activity of its scholars. 

Philological and Literary Criticism.—The formation 
and constant growth of the royal libraries laid numerous 
tasks upon the men charged with satisfying the wishes 
of the princes in this respect. First, it was necessary 
to procure manuscripts, often scattered, for the purpose 
of gathering together the complete works of the prin- 
cipal writers. Then, among the manuscripts thus as- 
sembled, it was necessary to determine what was authentic 
—a delicate task, in which the critical mind gained its 
education. ‘These manuscripts, moreover, were more or 
less incorrect. Hence it became imperative to compare 
them with one another, in order to correct them, so as to 
offer sound texts to the readers, as conformable as pos- 
sible to the often lost originals. And even this did not 


Ye ae 


HELLENISTIC LITERATURE 215 


suffice. These old texts had become obscure, either be- 
cause their language was antiquated, or because they made 
reference to forgotten occurrences, or again because the 
thought of the author had become unintelligible. Hence 
the need of critical annotations and commentaries, even 
of conjectures and special lexicons. Thus philology and 
literary criticism grew out of the requirements of the 
time. It was by works of this worth that certain scholars 
made themselves illustrious, among them being such men 
as Zenodotus of Ephesus, Eratosthenes of Cyrene, Aris- 
tophanes of Byzantium, and Aristarchus of Samos, who 
succeeded one another in Alexandria in the course of 
the third and second centuries before our era. At the 
end of the same period Crates of Mallus fulfilled the same 
office at Pergamus with equal success. After them, we 
must mention Apollodorus of Athens, the Thracian 
Dionysius and the Alexandrian Didymus, the most inde- 
fatigable of the learned guild. ‘This is not the place to dis- 
cuss each one of them separately or to enter into the details 
of their work. Suffice it to say that we are indebted to 
them, not only for the preservation of the ancient texts 
the deterioration of which they prevented, but also for a 
number of valuable explanations without which many of 
these texts would have been in part unintelligible to us. 
To them is due, as a matter of fact, the best there is in 
the scholia which the commentators of the Roman and 
Byzantine periods summarized and too often spoiled. 
Literary criticism properly so called, that which judges 
the merit of authors, is not lacking in these commentaries ; 
we still find interesting traces of it in some of the frag- 
ments which have come down to us. But it may be bet- 
ter appreciated in various non-historical writings of 
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who is said to have been 
looked upon as the inheritor and continuator of the 


216 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Alexandrians, altho he lived at Rome under the Emperor 
Augustus. It would be unjust, however, to impute to 
them the personal prejudices which offend us in his works, 
when he speaks of Thucydides or Plato. Engaged above 
all in oratorical training, Dionysius claims to offer to 
the future orator only the models best adapted to his 
art; and this accounts for the fact that he seems to make 
it a duty to sacrifice everything to Demosthenes. ‘This is 
a narrow point of view, but one which should not prevent 
us from recognizing the precision, and sometimes the acu- 
men, in the critical tradition which he continued. 

Grammar.—To this criticism, whether verbal or liter- 
ary, grammar is naturally related, that is to say, the 
classification and methodical definition of the parts of 
speech. Scarcely outlined in the fifth and fourth cen- 
turies, it was really put into form by some of the scholars 
of this time, notably by Aristarchus, by Crates, imbued 
with the stoic logic, and by Dionysius, whose names we 
have just mentioned, They transmitted it in a finished 
form to the Greek and Latin grammarians of the follow- 
ing period, 

History.—Of all the forms of literature, history is per- 
haps the one which is the least subject to danger, since 
it derives its life from actual events and assumes as its 
task that of registering them according as they have 
taken place in the past. Therefore, in the three centuries 
of the Hellenistic period, there were many historians. 
The best known were Callisthenes of Olynthus, then the 
two fellow-countrymen of Alexander, Ptolemy and Aristo- 
bulus, also the Sicilian Timeus, Hieronymus of Cardia, 
Douris of Samos, Phylarchus, Clitarchus, the authors of 
Atthides, and especially Androtion and Philochorus, all 
authors whose works have been lost, and Polybius, the 
only one whom we are able still to appreciate fully, thanks 


HELLENISTIC LITERATURE 217 


. to the preservation of a considerable part of his great 
works. None of them seems to have been equal in talent 
to the historians of the preceding period; but we should 
note the innovations they introduced into history. 

With Timeus there appears the careful replacing of 
the local chronologies, notably those which were based 
upon the lists of archons, ephors, or eponymous priests, 
by a truly Panhellenic chronology, that of the Olympiads. 
But when the history of Egypt and of the Orient was 
better known, when that of Rome was joined with that of 
the Greek peoples, the need was felt of still further en- 
larging this:chronology, which in its turn had become too 
narrow. An effort was made, therefore, to constitute a 
comparative chronology, permitting the establishment 
of the necessary synchronisms; and this work nec- 
essarily led to a general revision of the previous systems 
of reckoning. This was one of the tasks in which the 
scholar Eratosthenes made himself illustrious, a man 
to whom we have already assigned a place among 
the philologists. He accomplished it by using the data 
collected by the Hellenized Egyptian, Manetho, who 
had been a priest of Heliopolis under Ptolemy Phila- 
delphus. After him it was continued by another scholar, 
likewise mentioned above, Apollodorus of Athens. In 
spite of errors or inevitable uncertainties, these laborious 
calculators succeeded, altogether, in laying the founda- 
tions of a positive knowledge of the times. 

But to Polybius belongs a particular distinction. It 
is the very horizon of history which broadens out with 
him. This broadening, which had begun with the con- 
quests of Alexander, could not fail to assert itself more 
strongly in the second century, when the relations of 
Greece and Rome were opening to men’s mind a perspec- 
tive over Italy, Carthage, and all the peoples subject to 


218 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Roman or Carthaginian influence. The study of the 
growth of the Roman state in Italy, of its rivalry with 
the Punic power, of its rapid extension toward the Orient 
as well as the Occident—what subject could afford greater 
stimulation to the thought of a man endowed with some 
degree of interest in things political? Before him there 
unfolded a long series of historical facts, determined by 
natural causes which had to be brought to light. Poly- 
bius was fully conscious of this. It was in his work that 
there was defined the idea of continuity in human life, of 
an intimate logic of things, and of an interdependence 
among nations, which until then had been able to appear 
isolated. Thus there was constituted a positive philo- 
sophy of history, capable of definitively eliminating the 
theological explanations which had too long been abused. 
And this philosophy gave to historical writing a useful 
political and moral instruction which Polybius succeeded 
in bringing out emphatically. It also had the effect of 
making better known the value of the scientific elements 
of history. Thereafter the latter could no longer con- 
sider either geography, or the constitutions of states, 
their laws and customs and their economic and mili- 
tary organization, as episodical subjects calculated to 
satisfy the curiosity of readers in a more or less transitory 
way. All these things became the essential subject- 
matter of his study. Consequently, he was led to make 
more methodical and more frequent use of epigraphic 
documents, of treaties, of decrees, and of public archives. 
Timeus had already set a good example in this respect. 
Polybius was not content merely to praise him for it; he 
followed his example. 

Geography, better understood for that very reason, 
while lending greater aid to history, tended to claim in- 
dependence from it and to undergo a similar development. 


HELLENISTIC LITERATURE 219 


Altho it had not ceased to progress since the remote time 
of Hecateus and Anaximander, we may say that in the 
middle of the fourth century it was still in its infancy. 
First the conquests of Alexander, then the extension of 
the Greek world toward the Occident in consequence of its 
relations with Rome, gave it a vigorous impulse. Thanks 
to the discoveries of travelers and explorers, such as 
Pytheas of Marseilles, and Nearchus, an admiral in the 
service of Alexander, Eratosthenes, whose name is linked 
with all progress in science, was able in the third century 
to write his Geography, a complete description of the 
known world at that time, and a work which was epoch- 
making in summarizing all existing knowledge and in 
adding to it a remarkable attempt to measure the earth. 
Polybius, in turn, made corrections and additions to this, 
founded upon observations which he himself had collected 
in his travels. And toward the end of the second century 
this work culminated in the publication of the extensive 
Geography of Artemidorus of Ephesus, utilized in the 
time of Augustus by Strabo, whose work is still read. It 
is by means of the latter, consequently, altho it dates 
from the extreme end of and almost beyond the Hellenistic 
period, that we are today better able to measure what 
progress the knowledge of the world had achieved at that 
time. 

With the historiography of the Hellenistic period are 
connected two works which, altho they also are slightly 
posterior to the chronological limit, are nevertheless in- 
separable from it, namely, the Universal History or 
Library of Diodorus of Sicily, finished toward the begin- 
ning of the reign of Augustus, and the history of The 
First Centuries of Rome of Dionysius of Halicarnassus, 
composed in the same reign. The former is only an 
abbreviator of the historians who had preceded him. 


220 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


All his work consisted in reviewing and summarizing 
what they had written, in sewing together at the ends, 
so to speak, the extracts which he culled from them. ‘The 
chief merit of his work is that of having preserved for us, 
in this way, some part of so many lost writings. But 
from our point of view it reveals a need, a very urgent 
need at that time, namely, that of making a synthesis 
of a past which people were anxious to comprehend in 
its entirety. The spirit of the times called for universal 
history in consequence of the unification of the world by 
the Roman conquests. As for Dionysius of Halicarnas- 
sus, whose works of literary criticism we have mentioned 
above, his merit as a historian is in itself very slight. 
On the one hand, his Roman history causes us to feel 
strongly the influence which rhetoric was then pretending 
to exert upon historiography, which it regarded as a part 
of its domain; and, on the other hand, it bears witness to 
the interest which the Greeks were beginning to take in 
Roman things and also to the numerous legends which 
they were introducing into the traditions of ancient Rome 
in order to relate the latter to their own history. It was 
for them a sort of revenge for the conquest. 
Biography.—Let us not forget, either, that alongside 
of history, properly so-called, this same period also wit- 
nessed the development of biography, a secondary form 
but by no means negligible. Derived in the fourth cen- 
tury from the oratorical eulogy, biography was first made 
prominent by the philosophical schools, which were anx- 
ious to preserve piously the memory of their leaders. 
Then, the publication and dissemination of the works of 
the great writers gave rise to the preparation of notices 
recounting the principal events of their lives and setting 
forth the most notable traits of their characters. Once 
the form had secured standing, biographies of statesmen, 


HELLENISTIC LITERATURE 221 


generals, kings, and great personages naturally had 
their turn. The public taste for the details of customs, 
the more and more lively interest attached to individuals, 
and also a certain scientific curiosity which was becoming 
general, insured their success. It is true that none of the 
biographers of this time, neither Hermippus, nor An- 
tigonus of Carystus, nor Satyrus, seems to have been 
classed among the writers of renown. Not until the time 
of the empire, under the Antonines, does the biographic 
form, thanks to Plutarch, assume its place among the 
lasting creations of the Greek mind. But the work of 
Plutarch, of which we shall speak in its place, would un- 
doubtedly not have been possible if the way had not been 
prepared for it a long time in advance. 


(3) RHETORIC AND ORATORY 


Oratory. The Schools of Rhetoric.—Need we speak of 
a Greek oratory in the Hellenistic period? At that time, 
to be sure, there were deserving orators in all parts of 
the Greek world; but if nothing of their speeches still 
exists, this is almost certainly due to the fact that there 
was nothing in them of lasting interest. Great eloquence 
had died with the extinction of liberty. Exiled from the 
public tribune, the oratorical art thereafter had its chosen 
domicile in the schools. 

The principal merit of the teachers of eloquence of this 
time, therefore, was that of transmitting to the Roman 
orators the traditions which had been formed in Greece 
in the fifth and fourth centuries. These traditions pro- 
ceeded either from examples furnished by the great 
orators whose principal speeches had been published, or 
from observations and precepts set down in the fourth 
century in a few treatises which had become classic, 


222 - HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


particularly in those of Aristotle, Theophrastus, and 
Anaximenes. Several of the philosophers of the following 
centuries, to be sure, wrote in their turn upon the same 
subject; but it does not seem that any of them or any 
of the contemporary rhetoricians, brought to the art of 
persuasion any truly new contribution. Given more to 
practice than to theory, they cultivated the natural apti- 
tudes of their pupils, especially by repeated exercises. 
Some of them, who called themselves adherents of the 
Attic form, remained more or less faithful to the simple 
manners and methods of the Athenian orators of former 
times; others, in larger numbers, commended the form 
which they called Asiatic, the principal initiator of which 
had been, in the third century, a certain Hegesias of 
Magnesia—an emphatic and redundant eloquence, full of 
affectation, which tended to make more or less brilliant 
improvisation prevail over sane reflection. The great 
Roman orators did not escape entirely from this un- 
fortunate influence; but the best of them strove to 
temper it and to revert to the true models which the 
Hellenistic rhetoric had too much forgotten. 


CHAPTER III 
PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 


Philosophic Needs of the Hellenistic Period.—In an age 
which lent itself so little to independent and truly useful 
activity, it is natural that the most vigorous minds turned 
to philosophy. ‘There, at least, worthy problems were 
presented to them; and freedom of thought was not 
trammeled as it was in the domain of politics. More- 
over, if philosophy, attached to the essential lessons of 
Socrates, proposed to regulate the conduct of life, it 
had much to do to adapt itself to the changes that had 
taken place in human society. A revision of the teach- 
ings which had sufficed in the fifth and fourth centuries 
was imperative. While the ancient city-state was dis- 
appearing, it was a question of assuring to the individual, 
thereafter isolated and practically reduced to his own 
resources, the means of preserving everything which 
makes life valuable. On the other hand, since the legal, 
guarantees were losing their efficacy, it was necessary to 
realize in some other way the conditions of moral tran- 
quility. It is a credit to the thinkers of the Hellenistic 
period that they applied themselves to this task and in a 
general way succeeded, by various methods, in satisfying 
the numerous generations up to and beyond the advent 
of Christianity. 

Sects.—Several schools were constituted, as we have 


seen, in the course of the fifth and fourth centuries. 
223 


224 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Alongside of that of the Pythagoreans, which tended to 
eclipse itself, the most famous at that time were that of 
Plato, or the Academy, and that of Aristotle, or the 
Lyceum, to which we must add the small group of the 
followers of Antisthenes, who had become the Cynics, 
and, on the other hand, the adherents of Aristippus. 
The Hellenistic period witnessed the growth of two large 
new sects—Stoicism, or the school of the Portico, and 
Epicureanism. The development of these rival doctrines 
and their disputes form a chapter in the history of 
Hellenic civilization all the more interesting in that they 
were one of its most active elements. 


(1) sroicism 


General Character of Stoicism.—It is undoubtedly in 
Stoicism that the moral interest common to all the philo- 
sophies of this time, is affirmed in the noblest manner. 
Its dogmas may be criticized, but the moral energy which 
it exemplifies is deserving of admiration. Its fault lay 
in its demanding of human nature more than it could 
give; on account of wishing to elevate its ideals, the 
Portico lost sight of reality too much. In order to sup- 
port its uncompromising attitude, it constructed an en- 
tire group of paradoxes which exposed it considerably to 
its adversaries. ‘This defect could not, however, mar the 
elements of its grandeur. 

Its Founders.—Three eminent men built it up, all of 
them natives of Asiatic Greece—Zeno of Citium, in Cy- 
prus ; Cleanthes of Assus, in Troad; Chrysippus of Soli, in 
Cilicia. Zeno came to Athens at the age of about twenty, 
shortly after the death of Alexander, and there studied 
successively under the Cynic Crates, the dialectician 
Stilpo, and the leaders of the Academy, notably Polemon; 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 225 


then, at the age of about forty, his doctrine having 
ripened, he took to lecturing in the Portico called the 
Pecile. Everything essential to Stoicism was already in 
this austere and spiritless teaching, a teaching, however, 
to which the dignity of his life and the nobility of his 
character lent a powerful authority. Cleanthes, who 
was the leader of the school after him, from about 270 
to 251 8. c., showed himself his worthy successor. Close 
application to work and zealous pursuit of truth were 
his dominant traits. But since his numerous writings, 
like those of Zeno, have been lost, it has become very 
difficult to distinguish precisely what is to be ascribed to 
him in the first development of the doctrine. The third, 
Chrysippus, certainly played a considerable part. A 
deserving teacher and a resourceful dialectician, he took 
his place at the head of the school in the second half of 
the third century, at the time when it had to meet the 
most vigorous attacks of its rivals. In order to defend 
it, Chrysippus was led to define the theories of his pred- 
ecessors, to supplement them, and even to modify them 
in certain respects. This is exactly what he did in the 
writings which he produced in profusion, with a facility 
which explains but does not excuse the careless form of 
his works. He has been called the “Pillar of the 
Portico”; and, as a matter of fact, it was especially 
upon his arguments that the school subsequently sup- 
ported its dogmatism. 

Fundamental Principles of Stoicism.—The fundamental 
idea of Stoicism was to consider man as part of an ad- 
mirably ordered whole. This universal order, or cosmos, 
appeared to Stoicism as the manifestation of a divine 
reason, or, better said, as God himself. Here was a 
pantheism which was at the same time absolute optimism. 
Such a belief, once accepted in its entirety, procured for 


226 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


the sectary of the Portico an inward peace of mind in 
the midst of all the hazards of life; for everything, to his 
eyes, even what is commonly called suffering and evil, 
tended toward ends conforming to supreme reason, and 
consequently to good. This is the sentiment which one 
finds expressed with a touching faith in some extant verses 
of Cleanthes. It goes back, therefore, to the origins of 
Stoicism; and it enables us to understand what attraction 
this austere but profoundly religious determinism was 
to acquire for those who were troubled and tormented by 
the spectacle of a world deprived of ideals. 

Moreover, this optimism claimed to be based upon a 
rigorous rationalism, consisting at once of an exact 
knowledge of nature and of a very carefully studied logic. 
This was the rather difficult side of the system, the side 
which always rendered it but slightly intelligible to the 
masses. In order to understand it, a long and patient 
effort of the mind was necessary. The Stoic metaphysics, 
deriving inspiration from the conceptions of Heraclitus 
and interpreting them in his manner, proposed to explain 
the formation of the universe and its duration by a series 
of transformations of fire, considered the original element. 
But what is important to note here is not the details 
of these theories, for they were merely arbitrary crea- 
tions which the progress of science was destined to ruin; 
it is rather the spirit revealed in them. Above all, 
Stoicism wished to establish an intelligible relation 
among the phenomena of which the life of the universe 
is composed; and since it compared the human soul to a 
blast of fire penetrating all the organs of the body, it 
seemed natural to it to explain everything by the trans- 
formations of fire. The same need of a rational con- 
catenation made itself felt in that part of their phi- 
losophy which the Stoics called “logic.” Under this head 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 227 


they classed the study of conscious knowledge, which 
began with sensation and ended with science, also the 
study of judgment and reasoning, while passing by that 
of the categories as renewed by Aristotle. Altogether, 
their system presented itself as a continuous teaching, 
which it was necessary to appropriate in its entirety ; for 
the final conclusions, those which constituted morality, 
derived all their force from the premises established by 
physics and logic. From this, moreover, it results that 
logic and physics had scarcely any value for them save 
by way of introduction to morality. It is the latter, in 
the last analysis, which has marked the place of Stoicism 
in Greek civilization, and it is upon its peculiar char- 
acter that we should place emphasis. 

The Stoic Ideal. The Sage.—Most essential was its 
conception of virtue. While Aristotle had represented vir- 
tue as a just mean between two excesses, and Plato as the 
harmonious development of the human faculties, Stoicism 
made it the end of a continued progress, toward a goal 
so far off, so lofty, that only a few men, by way of ex- 
ception, were scarcely able to attain it. Carried away 
by the rigidity of their logic, the Stoics, when they wished 
to define this ideal, were unable to avoid strange para- 
doxes. They imagined a sage in whom nothing would 
be lacking, since he would find everything in himself; a 
man incapable of failure, therefore, and inaccessible to 
grief, possessing true richness and true power, in short, 
a mortal resembling a god—a conception manifestly so 
unreal that it gave the entire doctrine the stamp of 
utopianism. Nevertheless, it appeared to them necessary 
for a full realization of this “impassibility,” which was for 
them the supreme form of happiness. And they aggra- 
vated this defect still more by denying that there were 
degrees either of good or of evil, and by affirming, con- 


228 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


sequently, that all defects were equal, or again that every 
man who had not arrived at the supreme wisdom was 
insensate. Herein lay the danger of the excessive 
dogmatism in which they took delight. In practice, no 
doubt, these paradoxes corrected themselves, and were 
toned down by the force of things. Some of the most 
moderate of their teachers became resigned to conces- 
sions; but the doctrine of the leaders of the school per- 
sisted, and an endeavor was made to defend it with all 
the resources of subtile dialectics, which dangerously 
offset all the good points in their ideas. 

Natural Law. Duties, Casuistry.—Perceiving clearly. 
that the law of man can be only an individual application 
of universal law, and that the latter constrains every 
being to live in conformity with his peculiar nature, the 
Stoics had laid it down as a principle that human life is 
to be regulated according to that which is peculiar to man, 
that is, according to reason. All their morality was de- 
rived from this. This was tantamount to saying that a 
man was truly a man only if he subjected his instincts, his 
fears and desires, in a word, all the movements of his soul, 
to the judgment of this guiding and sovereign faculty. 
It is an honor to Stoicism that it disengaged and brought 
to light this simple formula, the foundation of all rational 
morality. And having thus defined it, the Stoics studied 
all the practical consequences of it. With them appears 
in full light the conception of duty, which had remained 
merely an implied element in the previous systems of 
philosophy. And they applied themselves to defining it, 
not only in its general characters, but in the multi- 
plicity of its practical forms. Reluctant to abandon 
anything to the unreflecting impulses, they set themselves 
the task of determining the rules of conduct in all doubt- 
ful cases which they could foresee, Thus they consti- 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 229 


tuted what was later called casuistry—a regulation 
sometimes excessive, too minute or subtle, but calculated 
to arouse the attention of the conscience and to cause 
more delicacy to grow in it. Cicero’s treatise on Duties, 
an imitation of that which the Stoic Panetius had 
published in the second century, makes it possible for us 
still to judge it; and there is nobody who will deny that 
it impresses one as a sane, solid, and precise moral 
doctrine. 

Stoicism and Personality.—But perhaps the greatest 
merit of Stoicism, in any case the most striking, was that 
of fortifying marvelously the souls which were impreg- 
nated with it. No doctrine has better emphasized in 
each of its adherents the inner power which is the will, 
and the use which one can make of it to the end of 
rendering oneself truly free. None has proclaimedemore 
loudly that this freedom consists in an adherence to a 
superior law, an adherence which depends upon no ex- 
terior circumstance and which no authority is able to 
prevent. And if the experience of life does not permit 
the admission which the Stoics professed, that this free- 
dom is sufficient to render a man insensible to every blow 
of suffering, certainly it is at least one of the best condi- 
tions of happiness; and it is also one of those conditions 
which contribute most to the development of personality. 
The true Stoics were what they wished to be—men, in the © 
noblest sense of the word. 

Cosmopolitanism attributed to the Stoics.—They were 
also such by reason of sentiments of human fraternity. 
Accustomed to consider in man the common traits of 
humanity, they were able to attach only a mediocre 
importance to individual distinctions; and consequently 
it was much easier for them than for others to rise above 
class prejudices, to recognize a brother in the poor man, 


230 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


even in the slave. That a certain cosmopolitanism nec- 
essarily resulted from this attitude, is not to be denied. 
In the effacement of nationalities, in the fusion of peoples, 
and at times when political interests tended to become en- 
tangled, this sentiment was not unnatural, and it is not 
to be imputed to any particular doctrine. That of 
the Stoics is assuredly very appropriate in this case, 
as are all philosophies and religions of a universal char- 
acter. Still, cosmopolitanism is not a necessary conse- 
quence of Stoicism. Among the Romans, such as Cato 
of Utica, far from weakening patriotism, it seems, on the 
contrary, to have given it greater energy. 

Influence of Stoicism.—Stoicism owed much to the 
philosophers of the preceding age, notably to Socrates, 
Antisthenes, Plato, and Aristotle. In turn, it exerted a 
considerable influence upon the thinkers of the following 
centuries. It helped to lead the Academy away from 
the course of semi-scepticism which it had followed since 
the third century; and later on it became an element 
in the formation of Neo-platonism and Christian ascetic- 
ism. Since then, moreover, something of its teachings or 
of its examples have always survived in all moral doc- 
trines characterized by a generous ideal. 


(2) EPICUREANISM 


General Character of Epicureanism.—Alongside of, or 
rather in the presence of, Stoicism, there rose at the 
same time another new philosophy, Epicureanism, like- 
wise inspired by the desire to regulate human life with a 
view to happiness, but claiming to succeed in this by an 
opposed method. Whereas Stoicism demanded a pro- 
longed effort, Epicureanism, on the other hand, wished 
to suppress all effort. As it held forth a great promise, 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 231 


while demanding almost nothing, it naturally found 
numerous adepts. What, essentially, did it teach? It 
taught the art of living quietly, of throwing off cares, and 
of including some pleasures without excess or fatigue. 
Nothing is better suited to easy-going natures, devoid 
of ambition, but sufficiently reflective to perceive the 
dangers of action and too listless to face them. More- 
over, Epicureanism won adherents by its moderation; 
from the Greek tradition it had preserved the sense of 
moderation—which lent to its doctrine, mediocre as it 
was, the appearance of wisdom. 

Epicurus and His School_—The Athenian Epicurus, 
who gave his name to this doctrine, does not seem to have 
been a teacher, properly speaking, save for the physical 
part of his philosophy, which he borrowed from Leucippus 
and Democritus. But it was he who formulated its es- 
sential principles, deriving his inspiration from the 
writings of Aristippus. The school which he opened in 
Athens in 306 3B.c. was a sort of gathering-place for 
friends, whom he invited to attend his lessons in his 
garden. His influence upon them was great. All of 
them loved him, and all were persuaded that he was bring- 
ing to them the secret of a happy life. His con- 
fidence in himself, the clearness of his affirmations, and 
the simplicity of his reasoning and of his precepts, at- 
tracted minds which were scarcely anxious to examine 
anything very profoundly. He excelled in freeing them 
from the principal causes of trouble, and in furnishing 
them with practical counsel adapted to all circumstances 
of life. A _ prolific writer, he composed numerous 
treatises, in which he repeated to satiety ideas which 
varied but little but were always listened to with respect 
by his admirers. Of this literature, there have come 
down to us only two letters containing a summary of his 


232 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


doctrine, and a collection of Maaims, which was the 
manual or the vademecum of the Epicurean. A school 
which, basically, disdained science and abstained as much 
as possible from discussion could scarcely undergo any 
notable changes. Furthermore, it had no development. 
It lived several centuries, but remained, until its dis- 
appearance, the same as its founder had made it. 
Incredulity in Religious Matters.—One of its charac- 
teristic traits was the negation which it opposed to the 
common belief relative to the activity of the gods. Epi- 
curus regarded the idea of a divine providence, and every- 
thing that depended upon it, as the principal cause of 
many of the anxieties which at that time were tormenting 
the majority of minds. He wished to free them once for — 
all from such anxieties. He demanded of them the in- 
clination toward a conception of the universe founded 
entirely upon chance. The atomistic doctrine of Leucip- 
pus and of Democritus furnished him with all the elements 
of this. The exposition of it is to be found in the 
didactic poem of the Latin poet Lucretius. This 
atomistic doctrine, as we have seen, explained the forma- 
tion of the universe and all the phenomena of nature 
by the fortuitous coming together and mechanical com- 
bining of particles eternally falling in space. Thus 
everything was reduced to matter and to motion. ‘The 
soul, being itself material, could not have any destination 
other than the body. ‘Therefore, we hear no more of sur- 
vival; all apprehension relative to another life had to 
disappear. Epicurus, it is true, did not deny the exist- 
ence of the gods; but he conceived them as being rele- 
gated to absolute idleness, indifferent to human affairs 
and finding their happiness in this very indifference. 
For man, such gods were as if they did not exist. In 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 233 


fact, the supernatural element, in all its forms, was 
eliminated; humanity had nothing to demand of these 
happy beings who ignored mankind, and it had nothing to 
fear of them. Thus it was in vain that the Epicurean 
defended himself against the charge of atheism; common 
opinion held him an atheist; and, everything considered, 
there is no doubt that Epicureanism contributed its share 
to the ruin of the ancient religion. 

Morality of the Epicureans—The morality of the 
Epicurean harmonized with his conception of the universe. 
Since everything in the world depended upon chance, man, 
according to him, had only to obey the instinct which led 
him to seek pleasure. But anxious to do away with 
every cause of inward uneasiness, he had to eliminate from 
pleasure itself everything which might cause it to de- 
generate into pain; and pleasure was thus reduced to a 
sort of quietude. For the Epicurean, therefore, the art 
of living happily consisted of guarding as much as pos- 
sible against desires, which are almost always followed by 
deceptions, or against fears, which are vain anticipations 
of an unknown future. The wise man, in his eyes, was 
one who knew how to shut himself up in the present, to 
live from day to day, without ambition, without projects, 
concerned only to enjoy the passing moment, forgetful of 
troublesome memories, his mind closed to worry over things 
of the future. <A tranquillity consisting of an indefinite 
series of pleasant sensations—such was his ideal. Physi- 
cal atomism, in which he believed, was reflected in this 
sort of moral atomism. In practice, however, this did 
not work out without some difficulty. Nature does not 
easily allow itself to be subjected to an artificial dis- 
continuity which is so contrary to its laws. The Epi- 
curean also had to supply himself with an abundance 


234 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


of precepts and to have them incessantly present in his 
mind. He could remain on the right path only by carry- 
ing in himself a collection of rules, brief and imperative 
formulas, destined to place him on guard against his 
unreflecting impulses, often even against his sensations. 
One succeeded in being happy, according to the idea of 
the master, only by firmly persuading oneself that one 
could always be happy, thanks to these traditional 
recipes. All in all, one purchased the illusion of an 
easy life at the price of a discipline subject to many 
errors. 

Influence of Epicureanism.—Those who adopted this 
form of life liked to associate closely with one another, 
in the first place, no doubt, because they felt that they 
were unfavorably judged on the outside, and because they 
felt the need of escaping, by the pleasure of companion- 
ship, from the inner void which such a doctrine could 
not fail to produce in them. A few testimonies bearing 
upon these circles of Epicureans depict them as gather- 
ings of friends, passing the time agreeably without def- 
inite purpose or determined action. But, undoubtedly, 
it is not solely by these adherents, faithful to the thought 
of the master, that it is fitting to Judge Epicureanism. 
Let us not fail to recognize that the doctrine contained in 
itself elements of moral dissolution, which its easy dis- 
cipline was not capable of checking. In persuading a 
man that he had a right to live without really doing a 
man’s work, it encouraged moral dispositions which 
tended to bring about the ruin of the old Hellenic 
civilization. ‘To free the individual from every obliga- 
tion, to allow him to live his life at the pleasure of cir- 
cumstances without making any effort to direct them, 
was equivalent to breaking the power of the will, which 
alone assures the progress of human society. 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 235 


(3) OTHER SCHOOLS 


Old Schools and New Spirit.—If we set apart Stoicism 
and Epicureanism, the other schools of philosophy, the 
activity of which is manifested in the Greek world between 
the death of Alexander and the establishment of the 
Roman Empire, did not profess to be new. The Academy 
pretended to perpetuate the teachings of Plato, the 
Lyceum those of Aristotle, and the Pythagorean sect 
those of Pythagoras. But without declaring it, perhaps 
without wishing it, they accommodated themselves more or 
less to the spirit of their times; and consequently they, 
too, brought with them certain innovations. Three ten- 
dencies deserve especially to be mentioned here, namely, 
Scepticism, Eclecticism, and Mysticism. 

Scepticism.—Scepticism, as it appeared at the end of 
the fourth century with Pyrrho of Elis, was in a sense a 
condensation of the doubts which had previously been 
raised, either concerning the evidence of the senses, or 
apropos of judgments themselves. A certain lassitude 
of general intelligence, in the face of excessively abstract 
speculations and of incessant controversies, also had 
something to do with this. Neither Pyrrho, nor his 
pupil Timon, is sufficiently well known to us today to 
enable us to reconstruct all their doctrine exactly. It 
consisted, essentially, of a refusal to declare themselves 
upon anything whatever, of a systematic abandonment 
to custom, of a sort of passivity, which was to result,, 
according to them, in peace of mind; for this was, for 
the Sceptics as well as for the Epicureans, the final 
object of philosophy. 

But it was in the Academy, in the third century, that 
this tendency of thought took a scholarly form. The 


236 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


initiator of this change was the Molian Arcesilaus of 
Pitane, a pupil of Crantor. He became the leader of the 
school about 280 3. c. and directed it for a period of 
forty years. Endowed with a brilliant, cultivated, and 
resourceful mind, he was an indefatigable disputant, 
charming by virtue of his amiable and disinterested 
character. His ideas, transmitted to his successors, in 
the following century found a no less remarkable represen- 
tative in Carneades of Cyrene, an eloquent orator, always 
ready to attack or to parry and thrust, who directed the 
school from about 160 to 120 3. c. Academic scepticism 
was their common work, 

The truth is, it was only an attenuated scepticism, 
rather well defined by the term “probabilism,” which 
commonly serves to designate it. Setting itself especially 
the task of refuting the trenchant assertions of Stoic 
dogmatism and the negations of Epicureanism, its rep- 
resentatives professed that neither the senses nor reason 
could procure certainty. They pretended to revive for 
their purpose the expectant attitude which Plato had 
attributed to Socrates in many of his dialogs. Affirming 
nothing, they contradicted everything which the rival 
schools supported. The only concession which they con- 
sented to make was that certain opinions, everything 
taken into account, are more probable than others, and 
they admitted that it was wise to acquiesce in them pro- 
visionally, without, however, renouncing the freedom of 
scepticism. In the long disputes which they had with 
their opponents they brought up almost all the arguments 
of which the sceptics have since then made use; and for 
that reason they exerted an influence which has never 
entirely ceased. They have been reproached, with reason, 
for the inconsistency which lies in saying that the mind, 
incapable of discerning the truth, is nevertheless able to 


a= 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 237 


recognize probability. But what is not to be denied them 
is the recognition that they made vividly clear the diffi- 
culties of absolutely certain knowledge. Would it be 
fair to be severe with thinkers who, in refusing to ac- 
quiesce in premature and over-confident dogmatism, con- 
sidered scepticism a necessary factor in progress of the 
human mind? 

Eclecticism.—The Academy, however, did not persist 
indefinitely in this semi-scepticism. In the first century 
before Christ, Antiochus of Ascalon, its leader, repudiated 
it formally. The new dogmatism which he adopted was, 
however, an eclecticism, in which Platonic, Peripatetic, 
and Stoic ideas were fused. In this he followed a ten- 
dency which was general at that time. Philosophic 
speculation had multiplied hypotheses. None of them 
had been able to impose itself in the long run, but almost 
all of them had brought to light some interesting aspect 
of things. After so many efforts, men were little dis- 
posed to attempt entirely new explanations; it seemed 
best to revise what had previously been said, to appro- 
priate the good from everything, and to reconcile as much 
as possible all things that were not irreconcilable. The 
Academy tried this, but went at it too timidly; it did not 
dare to construct; it was content to repair. But its 
eclecticism at least marks the beginning of a movement 
which was destined to continue and from which Neo- 
platonism was later to emerge. 

To the same tendency is related the renewal of Peri- 
pateticism, which had attracted scarcely any attention 
since the time of Theophrastus. Toward the beginning 
of the first century before Christ, we find it coming to life 
- again at Athens in the person of Aristonicus of Rhodes, 
and Boethius. Zealous commentators of Aristotle, whose 
manuscripts they revise and whose ideas they interpret, 


238 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


they themselves attest by their turn of mind this mutual 
penetration of doctrines; but what must warrant them a 
place in the general history of Greek civilization is es- 
pecially the fact that they illuminated the totality of the 
Aristotelian philosophy, the influence of which was des- 
tined to be so great in time to come. 

Mysticism.—In a general way, all these philosophies 
pretended to deal with reason; but we should certainly 
have an incomplete idea of them if we overlooked the 
part played by Mysticism, which became more and more 
bound up with them. Disseminated everywhere, it never- 
theless manifests itself most completely in the Neo- 
pythagoreanism of the first century. It was probably at 
Alexandria, a decidedly cosmopolitan city, that the Neo- 
pythagorean doctrine was created and first developed; 
and there is reason to believe that it resulted from a 
fusion of traditional Greek Orphism, the Jewish and 
oriental religions, and certain elements of the ancient 
Pythagorean wisdom, which formed its core. Various 
borrowings from the philosophic doctrines enumerated 
above were later added to it. But the truth is that this 
Neo-pythagoreanism was only a particular manifestation 
of a general state of mind. ‘The Hellenic world, morally 
weakened, sought in the supernatural a strengthening and 
a source of hope. Never had it been so strongly attached 
to mysteries, to revelations which opened prospects of 
future life to believers. It eagerly accepted belief in the 
new gods, or in beings intermediate between men and gods. 
Purifications and expiations found favor with uneasy 
and troubled souls tormented by vague superstitions. 
Nothing seemed to them more desirable than to enter into 
communion with divinity by initiations and theurgic 
practices, sources of privileged grace. Ideas were now 
confused, now codrdinated in doctrines, more compact 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 239 


and precise with some, and more indistinct with many 
others; but already their great importance was about to 
become preponderant in the last stage of Greek civili- 
zation. | 


(4) THE scIENCES 


Inequality of Progress in the Various Sciences.—As 
regards the sciences properly so-called—mathematics, 
physics, mechanics, astronomy, and biology—the three 
centuries of the Hellenistic period offer us a spectacle of 
striking inequalities. While the mathematical sciences 
made remarkable progress at that time, the sciences of 
life remained almost stationary. The reason for this, 
undoubtedly, was that the former are made by a logical 
sequence of ideas which rises only from the work of the 
mind; from every established truth there immediately 
follows another truth which is a consequence of it. In 
the sciences of life, on the contrary, the first collected 
observations convey to the mind only a confused mass 
of materials, enormously complex, full of enigmas and 
apparent contradictions; and when a few superior minds 
have once classified them, long and, patient study is 
required to verify the interpretations, to note the errors, 
and to draw from the observations everything usable that 
they contain. Moreover, antiquity lacked many of the 
indispensable resources; it had at its disposal neither the 
microscope nor chemical analysis. Under these condi- 
tions it could not easily do better than Aristotle and 
Theophrastus. 

Natural Sciences.—Here, accordingly, we may review 
this category of sciences very rapidly. In the field of 
zoology, of botany, and even of medicine, the Hellenistic 
period did not produce anything which deserves to be 


240 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


mentioned in a survey as brief as this. Medicine, how- 
ever, by reason of its practical utility, showed itself 
always active, but without realizing any appreciable 
scientific gains. Besides a dogmatism which pretended 
to perpetuate the tradition of Hippocrates, but which, 
very unfaithful to his spirit, fixed itself in rigid formulas, 
there developed at that time an empiricism, which, denying 
itself all codrdination of facts, led to the very negation 
of science. The greatest merit of the physicians of this 
time was that they kept alive an art which was to be 
renewed in the following period by Galen and transmitted 
by him to the Middle Ages. 

Mathematical and Physical Sciences—On the other 
hand, in the mathematical and physical sciences, the first 
progress which had previously been realized by Pythag- 
oras and his successors, Plato and his school, Theodorus 
of Cyrene, and Eudoxus of Cnidus, continued with glory. 
At the beginning of the third century, Euclid published 
his celebrated Elements, which have entitled him to be 
called “the great geometer,” and which we still read. 
He laid down in it the foundations of geometry, such as 
they have continued to exist to our day. Some of the 
most notable qualities of the Greek mind are nowhere more 
vividly manifested than in this work. Shortly after- 
wards, Archimedes, at Syracuse, gave proof of a mar- 
velously inventive genius, both in the theories relative 
to the measurement of the circle and of the cylinder, in 
the properties of the parabole, in the study of curves, 
and in physics and mechanics, discovering at once new 
principles and their unknown applications. Toward 
the end of the same century, the Pamphylian Apollonius, 
of Perga, composed the first treatise on conic sections ; 
and finally Heron of Alexandria, at the beginning of the 


PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE 241 


first century, likewise made progress in physics, me- 
chanics, and pure mathematics. 

Almost as remarkable were the works of the astrono- 
mers. ‘To the scholar Aristarchus of Samos, who taught 
about 250 3.c., falls the honor of having discovered 
and dared to assert, for the first time, in spite of many 
vehement contradictions, that the earth revolved on its 
axis and made an annual revolution around the sun. 
To the same age belong the astronomical works of 
Eratosthenes, mentioned above as a critic and as a 
geographer, namely, his didactic and scientific poems, 
Hermes and Erigone, and his Catasterismi, in which he 
rivaled with the Phenomena of Arotus, who had preceded 
him a little. Both of them, it is true, did little more than 
popularize knowledge already acquired, and they mixed 
legend with science. Nevertheless, we may conclude from 
the success of their books as to the interest taken by their 
contemporaries in knowledge of the universe. But the 
great astronomer of this time was the Bithnyian Hip- 
parchus, of Nicza, who lived in the second century, in- 
ventor of the astrolage, creator of trigonometry, the 
actual originator of astronomical computations and 
measurements, and first author of tables indicating the 
movements of the sun and the moon. By the totality 
of these works it may be said that astronomy was at 
that time emerging from its infancy and inaugurating 
truly scientific methods. 

Let us not go further. It suffices from an enumeration 
of these names and from a rapid review of the principal 
discoveries which made them famous for the reader to 
form a general idea of the contribution made by Hellenis- 
tic science to the fund of knowledge which Greece handed 
down to subsequent civilizations. 


CHAPTER IV 


GREEK CIVILIZATION UNDER THE EMPIRE 


Survival of Hellenic Civilization under Roman Domi- 
nation.—The establishment of the Roman Empire caused 
the last Greek states to disappear. In the Orient as in 
the Occident they were no longer anything but Roman 
provinces. Whatever autonomy had been able to persist 
until then was utterly annihilated. Under the authority 
of governors of various kinds sent out by Rome, every- 
thing emanated from the imperial power, which held the 
entire world under its domination. But Greek civilization 
did not perish with the destruction of the Hellenistic 
kingdoms. Far from it. On the contrary, it imposed 
itself upon the conquerors. Already, in the last cen- 
turies of the Republic, Rome had profoundly fallen under 
its influence. In the first centuries of the Empire it 
succumbed to it still more, and in the time of the An- 
tonines we find a Roman emperor writing the journal of 
his intimate life in Greek. The Latin culture scarcely 
succeeded. in grazing it, and never penetrated it. Thus 
the history of Greek civilization continues under the 
Empire, with no sudden or very apparent change, until 
the time when, with the creation of an Eastern empire, 
the Byzantine civilization commences. Neither the gen- 
eral aspect nor the intimate constitution of society are 
very perceptibly modified during these four centuries. 


Nevertheless, society undoubtedly underwent a crisis 
242 


GREEK CIVILIZATION UNDER THE EMPIRE 243 


which had its causes in the decline of polytheism. In the 
second century, Christianity, which was growing and 
expanding, began to shake the foundations of the old 
religion. In the third century, it placed itself in rivalry 
with paganism; it had its apologists, its teachers, and 
its schools; it fortified itself even in persecutions. In the 
fourth century, it triumphed with Constantine and his 
successors. And no doubt the new religion, according 
as it attracted the intellectual aristocracy, became im- 
pregnated with Greek culture; indeed, it even developed 
into a new form of the ancient civilization, at least in 
the East. But it is too distinct a form, inspired by a 
very different spirit, for us to study it here. Greek 
paganism is the limit beyond which we should not pass. 

While declining, therefore, this ancient civilization 
gave proof, during these last centuries, of a vitality which 
can not be ignored. If even seems that, thanks to the 
Roman peace, it experienced at that time something in 
the nature of a second flowering, assuredly somewhat pale, 
as is natural in Indian summer, but not devoid of charm 
in spite of everything. Some of the works which issued 
from it belong among those whose influence has persisted 
down to our day. They acquaint us with a society which, 
to be sure, compared with a glorious past, did not con- 
ceal its inferiorities, and which, on the other hand, no 
longer felt itself turned toward the future with firm 
hopes; but, at least, it attached itself with zeal and love 
to its traditions, and applied itself to the best of its 
ability to perpetuate them. It found pleasure in this 
and succeeded thereby in doing honor to itself. 

The Life of the Cultivated Greeks under the Roman 
Empire.—It is in the first and second centuries of our 
era that the life of the cultivated Greeks of this time 
presents itself to us in its most interesting aspect. 


244 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Everything considered, the life of the cultivated classes 
was an intelligent one. Plutarch, whose works we shall 
mention further on, has left us testimonies in regard to 
this point, which give us a truly favorable idea of that 
age; and what he says of himself, or of his family, having 
nothing exceptional about it, may be broadly generalized 
without risk of error. 

In a small city of Beotia, at Cheronea, three or four 
generations pass before our eyes between the time of 
Augustus and that of Hadrian. It is at first the great- 
grandfather of Plutarch, Nicarchus, witness of the civil 
wars the effects of which made themselves cruelly felt 
about him, then his son, Lamprias, and his grandson, the 
father of Plutarch, who, one after another, seem to have 
quietly enjoyed the reéstablishment of order in the world. 
They occupied themselves in turning their lands to ac- 
count, in replacing in good condition their family for- 
tunes—honest people, devoid of ambition, content with the 
public esteem which they enjoyed and little troubled with 
regrets for the national independence a long time lost. 
In these surroundings, in which the spirit of the family 
passed from father to son, intellectual and moral culture 
was highly appreciated. All the fine traditions of Greece, 
all its memories, were held in honor there. ‘Thus Plutarch 
and his brothers were sent as young men to Athens, 
which still remained the seat of polite studies. Celebrated 
schools attracted thither from all points of the Greek 
world the best teachers and studious young men. No- 
where were the relations between the professors and the 
pupils better regulated; under the guarantee of a sane 
discipline, they were familiar and cordial. ‘There were 
friendly gatherings: and talks around a hospitable table; 
random debates about this and that; contests in intelli- 
gence, in erudition, and in ingenious and subtile reflec- 


GREEK CIVILIZATION UNDER THE EMPIRE 245 


tions. <A very active taste for literature, for philosophy, 
for the sciences, and for religious questions prevailed in 
all the cireles. On the other hand, there was little or 
no discussion of politics. It seems that the exchange 
of ideas had become the principal object of life. More- 
over, it did not cease outside of the schools. People 
traveled much at this time, assuredly for business reasons, 
but also for curiosity. The means of communication 
being surer and easier than formerly, men went from the 
Orient to the Occident, from Greece to Italy, and from 
Italy to Greece. Plutarch, his education completed, 
visited Egypt, the great city of Alexandria, then Rome 
and Italy, where he sojourned on several occasions. 
Here he gave lectures, for conferences were in vogue; 
he visited the philosophers, for they were everywhere, and 
he himself taught philosophy ; but he also visited the cele- 
brated places, he made the acquaintance of great per- 
sonages, he familiarized himself with Roman history by 
questioning the descendants of those who had partici- 
pated in the making of it. The mutual penetration of 
the two civilizations appears to us there actively. 
Then he returned to his own country; and, having de- 
cided not to abandon it, he occupied himself with 
municipal affairs, without neglecting his own affairs. 
He held local magistracies, frequented the near-by sanc- 
tuary of Delphi, so rich in monuments and in tradi- 
tions, and even allowed himself to be connected with 
priestly functions. Gradually he became celebrated. 
Distinguished strangers came to see him and were re- 
ceived by him. On his part, he wandered about in 
Greece, betook himself from time to time to Athens, his 
intellectual domicile, whither the education of his sons 
soon drew him. The best part of his time he spent in 
reading and in writing. What did he write?—treatises 


246 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


on ethics, letters, but especially biographies, of which 
we shall soon have to speak. For the present, what 
interests us in him is his mode of life; for it represents 
that of a large portion of his contemporaries and his 
compatriots. A laborious idleness, a peaceful existence, 
an activity which ends in dissertations, a varied culture, 
a taste for knowledge—such are the characteristics 
which give the best Greek society of the century of the 
Antonines its proper physiognomy. We shall find them 
again in its literature, and the latter will reveal to us at 
the same time some other aspects of this same society, 
some of the changes which it underwent under the in- 
fluence of circumstances. 

General Character of the Intellectual Production under 
the Empire.—In the time of the Hellenistic kingdoms, in- 
tellectual production had already lost much of its 
spontaneity; already imitation was tending to stifle 
originality. Under the Empire, notwithstanding the 
number and variety of its works, and notwithstanding the 
merit of some of them, this character becomes still more 
discernible. In all things men now succeeded only by 
imitation. ‘There is hardly anything new in literature, 
and still less in the arts. Science and philosophy alone 
give evidence of a certain creative power. It is chiefly 
with them, accordingly, that we have reason to occupy 
ourselves here. Nevertheless, it is necessary to cast 
at least a glance at the literary movement as a whole, 
from which philosophy is inseparable. 

Oratory and Rhetoric. The Atticists—lIt is a curious 
circumstance that the art of speaking was never more 
strongly cultivated or more greatly admired than it was 
in this period, in which it had lost its real bases for exist- 
ence. ‘The Greco-Roman world, in the second century, 
abounds in orators; Asia, Greece, and even Italy, acclaim 


ee a a ee 


GREEK CIVILIZATION UNDER THE EMPIRE 247 


these masters of the spoken word, these marvelous im- 
provisers, these artists of oratory, who have taken the 
title of sophists, which had fallen into disuse, and who 
bear it proudly. The schools in which they teach the 
secrets of rhetoric are frequented more than ever before; 
but it is especially in orations of great ostentation that 
they triumph—eulogies of cities, compliments to official 
personages, harangues delivered at public ceremonies. 
More serious occasions are offered to them, when they 
come to convey to the Roman magistrates, sometimes to 
the senate or even to the Emperor himself, the grievances 
or the congratulations of their fellow-citizens. And be- 
sides that, they always attract a large audience to oratori- 
cal exhibitions. Some names were then illustrious which 
have long since fallen into a just oblivion, such as those 
of Scopelian, Favorinus of Arles, Alius Aristides, and 
Philostratus. Their eloquence lacked every substantial 
element, and posterity has had the right to look upon it 
as sonorous verbiage. Nevertheless, we must recognize 
that these artists performed no useless task in reawaken- 
ing the sense of literary beauty which their immediate 
predecessors had too much neglected. Those who at 
that time were called “Atticists,” grammarians and 
rhetoricians, while exaggerating their scruples as purists, 
restored to honor correctness and good form in language. 
They purified it by imposing upon the orators and writers 
the authority of the best Attic prose-writers of former 
times, and in this way they prevented it from degenerating 
too rapidly. Evidently it was not in their power to do 
more, or to give it the freshness and spontaneity which 
constitutes the eternal charm of masterpieces. 
History.—The historical form was better protected, by 
its very nature, against the danger of frivolity. In the 
second and third centuries there were Greek historians 


248 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


whose works have survived and are justly esteemed. 
Imitators of Thucydides, Xenophon, and Ephorus, their 
common merit is that of having clearly and honestly set 
forth, in correct and pure language, the events which 
they undertook to chronicle. They made use of in- 
formation which without them we would not have today. 
It is to them that we must have recourse for the knowledge 
of important periods. We owe to Arrian of Nicomedia, 
a contemporary of the Emperor Hadrian, the best ac- 
count that we have of The Expedition of Alexander, 
remarkable for its simplicity and its veracity. Ap- 
pian of Alexandria wrote in the reign of Antoninus his 
Roman History, of which we still possess important parts 
—a rather dull composition, without originality or per- 
sonal criticisms, but well ordered and composed, in gen- 
eral, of good materials. Neither of these writers was 
equal to Dio Cassius, the most remarkable historian of 
this time. Of his great Roman History only some twenty 
books, a little more than a fourth of the work, remain. 
Here we find set forth, in firm language, the tragic events 
of the end of the republic, the civil wars, and the his- 
tory of the empire under the first Caesars; but it is to be 
regretted that Dio, having used Thucydides as a model, 
did not succeed in appropriating his freedom of thought 
or his independence of judgment. After him, the Syrian 
Herodianus, whose history of the Successors of Marcus 
Aurelius is still read, merely deserves mention. 

The work that does the most honor to the historiog- 
raphy of this time is undoubtedly the collection of the 
Paratlel Lives of Plutarch. Thanks to these Lives, 
biography, which until then had remained a subaltern 
form of history, truly acquired a new value. No doubt, 
one can not consider Plutarch either a great writer or a 
vigorous and daring thinker. Even as a historian, in- 


GREEK CIVILIZATION UNDER THE EMPIRE 249 


deed, he lays himself open to serious reproach. In him 
we find neither a careful criticism of the sources, nor a 
sufficient regard for chronology, nor a complete under- 
standing of great political plans. Plutarch’s work is 
moralistic and curious above all, and by his portrayal of 
customs and his description of varied details, he suc- 
ceeds in making the majority of the remarkable men of 
antiquity, Greeks and Romans, live once more before our 
eyes. A rich fund of information, drawn from reading 
as abundant as it was varied, enabled him to gather not 
only a quantity of secondary but suggestive facts, but 
also numerous traits and customs which reveal the char- 
acter of his personages. Careful to seek out the motives 
of their action, to inform himself as much as possible re- 
garding their private life, and to catch them unawares, 
as it were, in their moments of abandon, to the end of as- 
certaining their secret sentiments, their moral habits and 
their underlying natures, he often succeeds in acquaint- 
ing us with them better than the historians properly so 
called have done. We may add that he could tell agree- 
able stories, that he possessed dramatic sense to a high 
degree, and that the often long-winded reflections with 
which he interspersed his accounts, lacked neither astute- 
ness nor power. Hence the work as a whole reveals 
almost all the aspects of ancient civilization. ‘The popu- 
larity which he has enjoyed since the Renaissance is 
thus explained. It has provided more subjects for trag- 
edies than any other work; it has been enjoyed by 
some of our best moralists; and nothing, perhaps, has 
contributed more to the influence which Greece has 
exerted upon certain moments of our own French his- 
tory, especially upon the period of the Revolution. Thus 
even today, altho the progress of historical criticism 
has weakened its authority, it is one of the works of 


250 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


which we can not be ignorant if we wish to know the moral 
life of ancient Greece. 

Satirical and Fantastical Literature. Lucian.—In a 
very different form, another writer of the second century, 
Lucian of Samosata, likewise earned a lasting reputation. 
Like Plutarch, he owed much to the classical writers of the 
past; but, also like him, altho he borrowed a great deal, 
he was, in rather large measure, a creator; and as such 
he had his influence. He was, by profession, one of those 
sophists of whom we have spoken above; but his turn of 
mind revealed itself very quickly as quite different from 
theirs. Deriving his inspiration both from the ancient 
comedy and from the biting satires which the Cynic sect 
had placed in fashion, he gave scope to his sparkling 
and scoffing verve in light and varied works, dialogs of 
the dead, pleasant conversations of the gods and of 
mythological persons, treatises or dissertations, pamph- 
Iets, and fantastical compositions; in these he poked fun, 
now at the superstitions and fables of polytheism, now at 
the teachings or the follies of the contemporary philoso- 
phers, criticizing all dogmatisms, tearing off all masks, 
piercing with his darts all charlatanry. He was funda- 
mentally a sceptic, who perhaps sought above all an 
opportunity to show off his talent. But his scepticism, 
associated with a sharp good sense, could not fail to 
awaken many reflections and to fortify many doubts. 
He lets us see the emptiness which at that time was con- 
spicuous in many minds under the ancient beliefs. More- 
over, a vivacious imagination, grace, ironic enjoyment, 
and a brisk and piquant style, seasoned with Attic salt, 
made him a master of satirical prose. Huis work has re- 
mained the model of a form which has attracted many an 
imitator. } 

The Novel.—Let us mention, finally, among the literary 


GREEK CIVILIZATION UNDER THE EMPIRE 251 


creations of the time of the Empire, the novel; for it is 
in the novel that the free imagination, being diverted 
from poetry, found especially a means of exercising it- 
self at that time. The Greek novel is not a fiction of 
any kind; it is essentially a love story inserted in a nar- 
rative of adventure. It proceeds at once from the earlier 
erotic literature, and from the accounts of voyages, true 
or fabulous. Thru its characters as a whole, it represents 
well the state of mind and the customs in the Greek world 
for which it was made. A society detached from all 
great things, and one in which the influence of women was 
considerable, could not fail to make love one of its pre- 
ferred subjects. Moreover, it was too frivolous to de- 
mand profound psychological studies of its novelists. 
What they represent is not a passion in conflict with other 
passions, or with a sense of duty. If love, in a Greek 
novel, is opposed, it is opposed only by exterior obstacles 
and by imaginary events more or less improbable. Com- 
plicated adventures, abductions, tales of brigands and 
pirates, fortuitous meetings, incidents upon incidents— 
such are its ordinary elements. ‘The lovers, separated by 
some accident, are marched across the world, tossed about 
by the caprices of fortune, until the time when they 
finally come together again, always faithful to each other, 
and having escaped by miracle the most terrible dangers. 
In these rather incredible fictions, the marvelous abounds. 
In reading them one quickly senses that they were com- 
posed for minds to which real life seemed unattractive, 
and which even found pleasure in detaching themselves 
from it. A rather childish curiosity is associated in them 
with a total lack of critical spirit. Their credulity ac- 
cepted without the least resistance all theatrical happen- 
ings, all unforeseen interventions of the gods, and all 
fortuitous combinations, even the strangest. Thus these 


252 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


novels, in spite of the diversity of the fictions and of the 
characters, all resemble one another astonishingly. It is 
always the same general traits which one finds in the 
narrations of an Antonius Diogenes, an lamblichus, a 
Xenophon of Ephesus, of the Syrian Heliodorus, of the 
Alexandrine Achilles Tatius, and of Chariton, composed 
and published between the first and fifth centuries of our 
era. Among these authors there is scarcely any differ- 
ence of talent. Possibly Xenophon of Ephesus with his 
Ephesiacs, and Heliodorus of Emesa with his 4 thiopica 
or Adventures of Theagenes and Chariclea, are the least 
bad. It is difficult for us today to become interested in 
such works. Nevertheless, they were not without influence 
upon the growth of the modern novel. And this is still 
more true of the pastoral of Longus, Daphnis and Chloe, 
the precise date of which is unknown, but which certainly 
belongs to the same period. The love of two children is 
here described with an ingenuity more apparent than real, 
but not without some charm. In spite of a note of affec- 
tation and overdone nicety, this little book is one of those 
which have not ceased to be read. 

Erudite and Technical Literature-—We must not 
neglect entirely in this review, summary as it is, the erudite 
literature; for it also shows us to what extent Greece was 
living at that time in its past. What, in fact, are the 
treatises of rhetoric due to the masters of the second 
and third centuries, such as those of Hermogenes of 
Tarsus, Apsines of Gadara, and Menander of Laodicea, 
unless they are collections of oratorical recipes drawn 
from the classical works or extracted more or less skill- 
fully from the special writings of Aristotle and of 
Theophrastus? The small book of Longinus, On the Sub- 
lime, mixes with precepts inspired with the same spirit a 
commentary, sometimes eloquent, composed of beautiful 


GREEK CIVILIZATION UNDER THE EMPIRE 253 


passages taken from the poets or the orators of former 
times. The grammarians, on their part, labor to study 
in its minutest details the language of the ancient authors, 
which is coming to differ more and more from the 
current speech, and seek to establish rules governing it; 
this is the work of such writers as Apollonius Dyscolus, 
and Herodianus. ‘They select as their collaborators zeal- 
ous lexicographers, giving them the task of collecting 
from the ancient writers words that have fallen out of use, 
rare terms, and those which allude to forgotten usages. 
The lexicons of Harpocration and of Julius Pollux, com- 
posed toward the end of the second century and trans- 
mitted to us, bear witness to their labors. And The Ban- 
quet of the Sophists, of Atheneus of Naucratis, published 
a few years later, places before our eyes, as it were, the 
work of a passionate collector of old curiosities, who, not 
wishing to let anything of this precious antiquity be lost, 
applies himself to introduce, in an interminable dialog, 
all the notes which he has been able to collect in his 
laborious reading. 


CHAPTER V 
SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 


General Survey.—The lessening of creative activity in 
literature which has just been discussed could not fail to 
make itself felt in science and philosophy as well. This is 
true, not because there were fewer savants or philosophers 
at that time, but because both applied themselves more to 
the task of codrdinating or discussing the ideas of their 
predecessors than to that of conducting new researches. 
Greek thought retired within itself, so to speak, instead of 
continuing to expand freely. Nevertheless, the work thus 
accomplished was by no means lacking in interest or re- 
sults. For, in spite of everything, this revision of the 
previous ideas, knowledge, and systems inevitably gave 
them new life, to a certain extent. ‘Thus with materials 
in large part old, edifices of an appreciably different as- 
pect were constructed. And altho this renovation, in the 
sciences properly so called, was not very considerable in 
toto, it led in philosophy, as we shall see, to the forma- 
tion of a doctrine the influence of which was destined to 
be deep and lasting. 


(1) THE SCIENCES 


Mathematical and Natural Sciences.—Alexandria, 
which in the Hellenistic period had been a seat of such 
intense studies, produced again in the following centuries 


some of the most remarkable representatives of the 
254 


SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 255 


mathematical and physical sciences. First among them 
ranks Claudius Ptolemy, who distinguished himself as an 
astronomer, as a geographer, as a musical theorist, and 
as a physician, in the second half of the second century 
of ourera. His great T'reatise on Astronomy, known in 
the Middle Ages, after the Arabic translations, by the 
title Almagest, remained the foundation of the science 
of astronomy until the time of Copernicus. It preserves 
for us all of the observations made both by the author 
himself and by his predecessors. In his Geography we 
find gathered all the information which the science of that 
time had at its disposal for determining the latitude and 
longitude of the places mentioned on the maps; it was the 
greatest work of this kind that had ever been executed. 
His Harmonics give him the reputation of being the con- 
tinuator of Aristoxenus and the Pythagoreans in musical 
theory. Finally, besides his treatise on Optics, of which 
we possess a Latin translation, he wrote various lost works 
on mechanics and on a few phases of physics. 

In the field of mathematics, another great name worth 
mentioning is that of the Alexandrian, Diophantus, who 
seems to have lived in the third century of our era. His 
Arithmetic, the text of which unfortunately has come to 
us mutilated and altered, today represents the sum 
total of the researches undertaken by the Greek mathe- 
maticians on numbers. Precisely what part of this work 
is to be attributed to Diophantus himself? ‘That is a 
point on which the specialists are not entirely agreed. 
In general, however, it is admitted that the Alexandrine 
scholar did more than merely set in operation, in a series 
of problems, methods already employed before. At the 
very least he chose the best methods and brought out their 
value. He may be looked upon as one of the creators 
of the theory of arithmetic, and also as the one who fur- 


256 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


nished the Arabs with the component elements of algebra. 
Biological Sciences.—The réle of Galen in medicine, 
using this word in its broadest sense, was very nearly 
the same as that of Ptolemy in astronomy and geography, 
and of Diophantus in arithmetic. Like them, he sum- 
marized in his writings all the knowledge acquired by his 
predecessors; but like them, also, he developed this knowl- 
edge by his personal observations. Well informed in phi- 
losophy and in letters, he bore everywhere, whatever may 
have been the subject to which he applied himself, the 
habit of methodical reflection; he knew how to coérdinate 
and to generalize, and he reasoned well and clearly. A 
long medical practice at Pergamus, his birth-place, and 
at Smyrna, Alexandria, and Rome, under the reigns of 
Antoninus, of Marcus Aurelius, and of Commodus, had 
given him a rich experience. A prolific writer, he turned 
this experience to account in his very numerous works, the 
most important of which have come down to us. In them 
one finds evidence of the progress which is due to him 
in anatomy, in physiology, and in pathology. An ad- 
mirer of Hippocrates, on whose principal works he wrote 
commentaries, he deserves to be compared with him in the 
history of Greek medicine. The former was the initiator 
of medical science; the latter gave it the form under which 
it was to be transmitted to modern times pending the 
appearance of new methods and increased knowledge. 


(2) PHILOSOPHY PRIOR TO NEO-PLATONISM 


Role of Greek Philosophy under the Empire.—But at 
that time the role of philosophy was much more important 
than that of the sciences in the survival of Hellenic 
civilization. Already, during the Hellenistic period, it 
had come out of the schools and had penetrated widely 


SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 257 


into Greek and Roman society. At the time of the Em- 
pire it exerts a still more varied and extended influence. 
In truth, one finds philosophers everywhere. In their 
capacity as professors, they continue to gather all the 
cultivated youth around them; state chairs are instituted 
in their favor, besides those maintained by the cities and 
those of a private character. As intimate counselors, as 
guides of the conscience, they become more and more the 
familiar associates of great men and at the same time 
they give moral advice to a host of restless souls, either 
orally or in writing. But even this does not suffice for 
them. They transform themselves into veritable preach- 
ers, and many of them go thru the world carrying the 
good word from city to city. Some of them address 
themselves especially to chosen hearers, who are not in- 
different to beautiful language, and who wish to be 
instructed or taken to task in delicate terms, with a cer- 
tain elegance and literary polish. Others, less refined 
or more daring, go straight to the people; they face 
crowds and criticize vices in public places, wherever they 
find the opportunity, in the stadia or theaters. Natur- 
ally, this philosophy imparted in speeches or lectures can 
scarcely live only on commonplaces. It is in small circles, 
in the intimacy of genuine thinkers or of superior natures, 
that we must seek, on the one hand, the best examples and — 
unusual virtues, and on the other hand, personal ideas, 
which become organized into doctrines. 

As for general spirit, what characterizes this Greek 
philosophy of the Empire is the development of the moral 
tendency previously mentioned, to which is added a 
religious and even mystical interest, which becomes more 
and more pronounced. In this way it is related to the 
Platonic tradition, and ultimately it leads to a renewal 
of Platonism. But in its progress it gathers and absorbs 


258 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


in a broad eclecticism many elements proceeding from 
other schools, notably from Stoicism and from Pytha- 
goreanism. It also endeavors to save everything in the 
national religion which does not seem irreconcilable with 
moral law and with the idea of God. ‘Thus it becomes 
the superior form of paganism, and is the form which 
best represents the latter in the face of growing Chris- 
tianity. From this results the inevitable conflict which 
leads to its ruin. 

Previously, however, and even toward the middle of the 
third century, the sects of the Hellenistic period are still 
in existence—some of them at least—and their activity 
and true value are brought to light in works which can 
not be slighted. 

Stoicism under the Empire-—Among them, the first 
place undoubtedly belongs to Stoicism. We have seen 
how the doctrine of the Portico was definitely constituted © 
in the preceding period, and what prestige it had ac- 
quired even in Roman society. It had nothing more to 
gain from the dogmatic point of view; and, on the other 
hand, if it supported in certain respects the influence of 
general eclecticism, this was so only to a small extent, 
to such a degree did its original rigidity preserve it from 
outside encroachments. ‘True to the lessons of its found- 
ers, it discovered in their teachings everything that seemed 
necessary to assure the wise man internal peace in the 
midst of the difficulties of life and political revolutions. 
Thus refusing to rejuvenate its dogmas, it endeavored to 
make all their efficacy felt; and this sort of daily veri- 
fication of their value became the occasion of a practical 
teaching which has survived in a few particularly precious 
works. 

First and foremost is the Handbook of Epictetus, with 
the collection of his Discourses, both written in a sense 


SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 259 


under his dictation by the historian Arrian, who has 
already been mentioned in another connection. The 
Handbook particularly, for the reason that it contains 
in a condensed form the entire substance of this lofty 
morality, has survived as one of the most refreshing books 
handed down to us by Greek antiquity. Nowhere has the 
power of the human soul been affirmed more energetically, 
resolved to free itself from all servility by its own 
strength. We read here the proud and somewhat rude 
words of an ancient Syrian slave, a freedman, whom the 
edict of Diocletian against the philosophers, in 89 a.pD., 
had driven from Rome. Retiring to Nicopolis, in Epirus, 
he lived there in poverty and solitude, without a family, 
without intimate affections; and yet a profoundly re- 
ligious optimism breathes in everything which has been 
collected of his utterances. Persuaded that the universe 
is good as it is, that all events take place according to 
the law of a superior wisdom which leads everything to © 
ends determined by it, he finds complete satisfaction in 
the adhesion which he gives without reserve to all the 
wishes of that benevolent Providence in which he has faith. 
And from that time on, certain that this adhesion depends 
only upon himself, that nothing in the world can pre- 
vent him from giving it, he feels both free and happy; 
free in spite of everything which seems to oppress him, 
happy in spite of exile, in spite of misery, in spite of the 
suffering and of everything which troubles the majority 
of men. He feels it and he wants others to feel it as 
he does; for he is a master of moral force and of happi- 
ness, but an exacting master, imperious in his benevolence. 

Such is the book of the slave; we may compare it with 
that of an emperor, Marcus Aurelius, thoroly similar in 
virtue of its doctrine, thoroly inspired by the same faith 
and the same ideal. But whereas the slave gives a lesson 


260 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


to his disciples, the emperor addresses only himself and 
can correct only his own weaknesses. Fully conscious of 
his immense responsibility, of the extent of his duties, he 
examines his conscience and notes his thoughts day by 
day in order to judge himself and to better himself. He 
is a judge without indulgence, whom nothing escapes, 
since he is at once the accused and the accuser. Moving 
by virtue of his sincerity, attracting by virtue of the 
nobility and delicacy of his sentiments, he lets people see 
his scruples, his intimate conflict with inevitable discour- 
agements, his resistance to dangerous influences, his secret 
worries, and, above all that, his constant will to do good, 
his admirable force of soul. No book has ever better re- 
vealed the man in the author; and this man to whom it 
introduces us is one of the best types of manhood, one of 
the most worthy of admiration and love. He is not, how- 
ever, an exceptional being. He resembles each of us in’ 
some respect; and thus this book of personal confidences, 
this discourse which he holds with himself, offers us in its 
psychological analyses an always true image of the human 
heart. It has never ceased to be read, having never ceased 
to be profitable. 

The Platonic Tradition.—While Stoicism thus main- 
tained itself almost intact up to the end of the second 
century, the Platonic tradition, on the contrary, appeared 
in a blended form from the beginning of the Empire. 

We find it, much impregnated with Judaism, in the work 
of the Alexandrian Jew, Philo, in the first half of the 
first century of our era. Nothing is more curious than 
to see Greek philosophy thus penetrating a milieu which 
seems necessarily to be the most refractory to its in- 
fluence. In Philo it is mixed with Judaic theology to the 
point of modifying it profoundly. Borrowing from the 
Stoics their allegorical method of interpretation, this 


SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 261 


teacher of Israel claims to rediscover in the Old Testa- 
ment the majority of the ideas of Plato, and he does not 
even hesitate to believe that Plato borrowed them from 
the sacred books. As for his morality, it is in large part 
_ Stoic. But in this philosophy, which owes almost every- 
thing to the past, there appear elements indicative of 
new tendencies. The most important is the effort whereby 
Philo, while remaining faithful to the monotheism of 
Israel, nevertheless seeks to enlarge it. The god which he 
conceives manifests himself by “forces,’”? which in his eyes 
seem to acquire, at times, a sort of individual personality. 
The principle is the “logos” or divine word, to which he 
attributes the réle of an intermediary between God him- 
self and men. Here we have already something in the 
nature of a first outline of the Neo-platonic doctrine. 
The tradition of the Academy is also found again, but 
more influenced by Stoicism, in the work of the Bithynian, 
Dio of Prusa, surnamed Dio Chrysostom. A _ rather 
strange individual, at first a sophist according to the cus- 
tom of the time in the early part of his life, then proscribed 
by Domitian and turning a philosopher in exile, he be- 
comes a sort of preacher of morality under the reigns 
of Nerva and of Trajan. Those of his discourses which 
have been preserved bear witness to a rich and varied 
culture of mind, to a flowing eloquence, and to a dis- 
tinguished talent for writing. We find, naturally, many 
commonplaces, the banality of which the author does not 
always succeed in dissimulating by pleasing details or 
by ingenious inventions. But it is interesting to hear him 
reproach the people of Alexandria for their frivolity, 
their turbulence, and their delight in the games of the 
circus and the horse-races. On the other hand, philosophy 
with him plays a rather beautiful role, when it traces to 
the Emperor himself the ideal image of the king, or when 


262 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


it denies that slavery is founded on right, affirming that 
moral quality alone establishes a real distinction among 
men. We may add that in certain of his discourses we 
find a lofty conception of God, conceived principally as 
the supreme realization of everything which reason ad- 
judges excellent. That is why, altho there is nothing 
truly original in Dio other than his personality, we must 
recognize that his work is at least the interesting expres- 
sion of a whole group of ideas and sentiments which show 
us Greek wisdom in the process of perfecting itself. 

But the most renowned of the Platonists of this time, 
the one, in any case, who is read the most even today, was 
Plutarch, to whom we have to revert rapidly in order to 
complete what we have said about him above. For this 
biographer was also an open disciple of the Academy; 
and in this quality he combated Stoicism and Epicurean- 
ism, but took pleasure in invoking the authority of Plato. 
His treatises on morality, in which he discourses agreeably 
on questions of conduct by mingling anecdote with caun- 
sel, reveal him under the aspect of a guide of the con- 
science, who combines observation and the lessons of ex- 
perience with a sane doctrine, without exaggerated rigor 
and without excess of indulgence. Nevertheless, what is 
perhaps the most interesting in the philosophic part of 
his work is the section on religion. On the one hand, he 
makes himself the zealous defender of the traditional 
beliefs of Greece; he remains devotedly attached to the 
ancient cults, he tries to demonstrate the veracity of the 
oracles, and he either refuses to admit their failure or 
explains it in a manner designed to preserve the divine 
character. On the other hand, the foreign religions, par- . 
ticularly those of Egypt, interest him greatly, not as sim- 
ple objects of curiosity or study, but because he believes 
he finds in them, under different names, the same gods 


SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 263 


of Greece, It is this which he undertakes to prove by 
ingenious relationships, founded on allegorical interpreta- 
tions. The result is that he groups the principal 
varieties of polytheism in a syncretism which preserves 
the Hellenic character. In reality, the foreign influ- 
ences make themselves felt strongly. Dualism, against 
which Plato had not been able to defend himself entirely, 
acquires with Plutarch an entirely different importance. 
In contradistinction to the supreme God, the principle 
of good, he recognizes as necessary a bad principle, from 
which all evil in the universe proceeds. And this prin- 
ciple is not matter; for he represents it as purely passive, 
and therefore equally capable of good and of evil. It 
is an active power, essentially evil-doing, which opposes 
itself with all its forces to the divine power, the source of 
all good. He relates it to the Ahriman of Zoroaster, and 
to the Typhon of the Egyptians, thus bearing witness to 
the penetration of Oriental beliefs into Hellenism. Be- 
tween these two contrary powers, intermediaries are indis- 
pensable. These are the beings which Plutarch calls 
demons, as did Plato previously. His philosophy at- 
tributes a varied rdle to them. Very unequal and dis- 
similar, some of them for him are the very gods of Greek 
polytheism, while others appear to him as impure spirits ; 
and it is in this way that he believes he can explain a 
large part of the mythological traditions as well as the 
violent or gross cults which are sanguinary or immoral. 
A singularly complex theology, apparently, which attests 
the dilemma of the best minds, their desire to abandon 
nothing of that which they looked upon as a sacred 
heritage, and at the same time their need of not remaining 
obstinately unreceptive to foreign influxes. In this con- 
fusion the Greck genius persisted in seeking coédrdination 
and harmony. 


264 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Neo-pythagoreanism.—Analogous provisions are found 
in Neo-pythagoreanism, the formation of which was men- 
tioned above at the end of the Hellenistic period. Recon- 
stituted at that time as a school, we see it undergoing a 
notable development under the Empire. It is represented 
principally by Apollonius of Tyana and Moderatus in the 
first century, by Nicomachus and Numenius in the second, 
and by Philostratus at the beginning of the third. But 
its doctrines in themselves, in which Platonic, Aristotelian, 
and Stoic elements are mixed with old Pythagorean ideas, 
offer nothing very original. Only by virtue of its moral- 
ity and its idea of life, is it of interest in the history 
of civilization. The biography of Apollonius of Tyana, 
written by Philostratus, shows us clearly what element of 
credulity and superstition was associated in its adherents 
with a spiritualism which was sometimes confined to 
asceticism. Philosophy, as they conceived it, was less a 
science than a form of life entirely permeated by religion. 
Purity of customs and practice of abstinences constitute 
its essential discipline; and this discipline was especially 
for the Pythagoreans a means of placing themselves in 
close contact with God. Their demonology represented 
this contact as facilitated by supernatural intermediaries. 
And thus, monotheists by profession, they not only wor- 
shipped the Greek gods and certain foreign gods, but they 
made Pythagoras himself and, later on, Apollonius of 
Tyana, if not gods, at least divine men, prophets, 
magicians, thaumaturgists, as well as sages endowed with 
infallible reason. It was the school in which was most 
strongly manifested that mysticism which was later to be- 
come one of the principal elements in the Neo-platonic 
doctrine. 

Scepticism.—In opposition to these various dogma- — 
tisms, it was natural that scepticism likewise demanded — 


SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 265 


its rights. After AZnesidemus, of whom we know scarcely 
more than his name, the physician and philosopher Sextus, 
an empiric, who seems to have written at the end of the 
second century, made himself the convinced defender of 
them. His Pyrrhonian Hypotyposes and his treatises 
Against the Mathematict summarize all the arguments 
which Greek scepticsm of the preceding centuries had 
successively opposed to the doctrines of the various 
schools. He even pretends to overturn all science, all 
positive teaching; it is the most systematic defiance which 
has ever been cast into the face of human reason. But 
if the tendency which it represents is to be noted here, it 
can be noted only in passing. There is no doubt that it 
remained confined to a narrow circle. The general intel- 
lectual movement tended at that time in an entirely dif- 
ferent direction; it was destined to end in Neo-platonism. 


(3) NEO-PLATONISM 


Origins and General Character of Neo-platonism—. 
Outlined at Alexandria, in the first half of the third cen- 
tury, by Ammonius Saccas, the Neo-platonic philosophy 
was definitively constituted at Rome, a few years later, 
by one of his pupils, the Alexandrian Plotinus, between the 
years 245 and 270 a. p. This was truly the last great 
creation of the Greek genius; and the effort to which it 
bears witness shows what vitality there was still left in it. 
Refusing to deny its own self or to consent to dissolve 
itself miserably, it sought to coérdinate in a broad 
eclecticism everything superior which had formerly been 
produced, and it succeeded in adapting the doctrine thus 
formed to new needs, of which it was fully, conscious. 
This doctrine presented itself as a renewal or rather as 
an interpretation of that of Plato. In any case, it was 


266 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


a very free interpretation, which associated with the 
teachings of the Academy many ideas borrowed from the 
Pythagoreans, from the Peripatetic tradition, and from 
the Portico, without counting those which it added on its 
own account. Naturally strange contrasts had to result 
from this fusion of a far-off past with a present so dif- 
ferent. No school carried abstraction further; none, 
moreover, attributed more importance to sentiment; on 
the one hand, an extreme subtlety, an abuse of analysis 
ending in a maze of innumerable distinctions; on the 
other hand, a fervor carried to the point of exaltation. 
This double character, so ill designed to please the modern 
mind, was nevertheless the very reason for the success of 
Neo-platonism. By its abstraction and subtlety, it suc- 
ceeded in reconciling, at least in appearance, beliefs, tradi- 
tions, and diverse doctrines; and by its appeal to the 
senses, 1t gave satisfaction to the mystical tendencies which 
were then prevalent. The result was a construction which 
was no doubt fragile in its totality, since it could succeed 
in lasting scarcely more than two centuries, but which 
nevertheless contained elements that have continued to 
exist in other forms and in other combinations. 

The Monotheistic Element in Neo-platonism.—For cen- 
turies, as we have seen, the Greek mind, without freeing 
itself entirely from polytheism, tended to modify it by 
subordinating it to the conception of a supreme god, in 
whom was condensed, so to speak, the essential idea of 
divinity. This tendency was carried by Plotinus, whose 
thought is characterized by a boldness of abstraction 
which stops at nothing, to the point where it resembles a 
defiance to human intelligence. The god of Neo- 
platonism, as a matter of fact, is beyond all sensible 
forms, beyond all imaginable attributes, beyond all pre- 
cise determination; he can not be defined or, consequently, 


SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 267 


named. It is only by a logical operation that the mind, 
incapable of attaining him directly, can form an idea 
of what he is. Plurality reveals to the mind the unity 
from which it proceeds; the visible effects permit it to go 
back to a first cause; and the varied forms of good, the 
existence of which it verifies, constrain it to conceive an 
absolute Good, which is its source. Thus it is the natural 
movement of the mind which lifts it up to the absolute 
Unity, from which all existence proceeds. Such a unity 
being admitted, how it is to be related to the plurality 
which our senses make known to us? Plotinus was per- 
suaded that he could render this communication intel- 
ligible without destroying, by the very act, the idea of 
absolute unity. Everything that exists derives its exist- 
ence from God; but God, according to him, in producing 
life in its variety, does not undergo either change or 
diminution. The living forms are only reflections which 
jhe projects without exteriorizing himself. Such formulas 
are apt to conceal the intimate contradictions of a sys- 
tem; they do not suppress them; but they deceive their 
very authors. ‘Thus we see Plotinus treating these re- 
flections as so many distinct beings. He multiplies them 
at pleasure, no doubt in order better to manage the transi- 
tion between two irreconcilable extremes. He thus comes 
to conceive an immense chain of existences, which grow 
weaker and more obscure according as they draw further 
away from the first cause. Around the central seat, a 
first zone is outlined in his metaphysician’s imagination ; 
he sees it entirely illumined by this seat, and for him it 
is that of the reason; beyond is a second zone, already 
-less brilliant, more related to the darkness of the sensible 
world, which begins to invade it: it is that of the soul; 
and finally, contiguous to the second zone, but entirely 
darkened, entirely enveloped in material night, is the 


268 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


last zone, that of the body. In running over them, the 
thought follows a descending movement. Nevertheless 
Plotinus thinks, as did Aristotle and others after him, 
that all these beings aspire to God, from whom they seem 
to draw away indefinitely. ‘This is so ordered that an 
equally progressive ascension corresponds to the pro- 
gressive degradation which has just been described. Such 
is the general course in which his thought moves. 

Of course, it would be scarcely possible to follow this 
thought here step by step. The details of the combina- 
tions which he imagines are strangely complex and often 
obscure. But we should note the effort of a philosophy 
which, manifestly, wishes to detach itself more than it 
is able to do from transitory and contingent things. ‘The 
supra-sensible world is the only one which seems to it truly 
intelligible; it makes of it its own object. Far from 
seeking life in movement and in change, it states as a 
principle that life is to be found only outside of time, in 
eternal identity and in absolute immutability. What, 
then, is matter, which seems to the common run of men 
most real? Plotinus is disposed to see only nothing in 
it; and if it is absolutely necessary to consider it under a 
positive aspect, he would gladly say that it is evil. It 
is true that sometimes, from another point of view, he 
admires the visible universe; he does not admit that one 
can fail to recognize its beauty or that one can criticize 
its organization. But let us understand the good. The 
true object of his admiration is not that which pleases 
the senses—such things as movement, variety, fugitive 
charm of forms and of colors, the marvelous play of 
light, the enchantment of artists and poets; it is harmony 
and the arrangement of parts, the intimate order which 
reflection discovers; in short, it is the element of reason 
behind the things which one sees and touches. ‘This 


SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 269 


reason, which is God himself, he feels and proclaims to 
be present everywhere. Hence his profound optimism, 
analogous to that of the Stoics. In a world ordered by, 
the Supreme Good, he is unable to find anything which 
is not good in its relation to the totality of things. 
Neo-platonism and Hellenic Polytheism.—Here we have, 
certainly, a theology which, more than any other, was 
turned by a sort of inner impulse toward the idea of 
divine unity. And yet, who does not see at the first 
glance how large a place it takes in polytheistic beliefs? 
Polytheism did not, to be sure, take much account of the 
theory of the hypostases, which seemed to distinguish 
several persons in God. The Neo-platonic hypostases 
resembled abstractions more than the mythological gods. 
But the pantheism of Plotinus permitted him to reconcile 
his belief in the divine unity with the conception of an 
entire world of gods, simple emanations of the Being of 
beings. To this world belonged the stars, regarded as 
divine, and nothing prevented the entrance also of the 
ancient Greek gods, or those of foreign nations, on the 
sole condition of interpreting by the allegorical method 
the myths relative to each of them. No doubt, this 
Olympus differed greatly, in the thought of the philoso- 
pher, from that which the poets had imagined and which 
the masses, following their descriptions, represented 
vaguely to themselves. What was this intimate differ- 
ence, if it did not manifest itself externally either by 
word or by deed? But Neo-platonism showed itself 
respectful of the cult and of the common practices of 
religion. The worship of images, the belief in oracles, 
prayer, and the sacrifices, were explained, justified, and 
even recommended by ingenious reasons. The philosopher 
could therefore reject in spirit the coarse absurdities and 
puerile superstitions ; and thereby he did not detach himself 


270 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


from the traditional Hellenism, nor did he cease to take 
part in the religious ceremonies, in the consecrated acts. 
In this respect, moreover, demonology came to the aid 
of theology properly so called. We have already seen 
what use Plato had made of it in the preceding century. 
We find it again developed or, better said, organized, in 
the doctrine of Plotinus. Entirely distinct from the gods, 
the demons for him are intermediary beings between the 
divine world and the terrestrial world. He holds them 
immortal, much superior to men in intelligence and power, 
but, like them, subject to a life of the senses, susceptible 
of passions, and, consequently, inconstant, differing 
among themselves, and beneficent or maleficent according 
to their underlying natures and according to circum- 
stances. In accordance with such endowments, a sort of 
inferior religion became necessary to regulate the rela- 
tions which it was expedient to maintain with them. And 
one immediately sees what a large opening was thus left 
by philosophy to a number of superstitions, to theurgical 
operations, and to magic. ‘This was one of the weaknesses 
of Neo-platonism, one of the traits which make it ap- 
pear, in spite of everything, as the work of a decadent 
epoch. 

The Destiny of Man and Morality.—The spirit which 
dominated this philosophy could not fail to manifest it- 
self also in its views regarding the destiny of man and his 
morality. Like Plato, Plotinus affirmed the preéxistence 
of the soul. He thought that, having emanated from the 
supra-sensible sphere, it was destined, by birth, to unite 
itself with a body, and that from this union there resulted 
for it a duality in a sense congenital. A part of the 
soul, according to him, tended instinctively toward the 
superior region, the place of its origin, whereas the other 
part inclined toward the world of the senses, in which it 


SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY 271 


found itself captive, without its will ceasing to remain 
free, however. He thought that it should make use of this 
freedom in order to prepare its future destiny; for im- 
mortality was no less certain for him than it was for 
Plato, whose arguments he took for his own account. To 
attach oneself too narrowly to the body, was to condemn 
oneself to undergoing in a series of successive lives a 
union with other bodies; and this captivity, incessantly 
renewed, ran the risk of being all the more oppressive, 
all the more humiliating, for this soul come from heaven, 
inasmuch as it would be more chained to matter. It then 
saw itself threatened with passing over into the bodies of 
_ animals, or even temporarily reduced to the purely 
vegetative condition of the plant. On the other hand, 
the soul which would succeed better in maintaining its 
integrity, could have the hope of assuming superior hu- 
man forms, or even of freeing itself more and more from 
the degrading contact with matter. To these liberated 
souls was promised a life of happiness and of light in the 
stars, and to the purest of them all, the definitive return 
to the source of being, the union with God in absolute 
felicity. 

A profoundly spiritualistic asceticism was the neces- 
sary consequence of these conceptions. Every effort of 
morality found itself turned toward renunciation, toward 
absolute detachment. Matter being evil, everything had 
to be given to the mind. Action could only be sacrificed 
systematically to meditation; and the latter was to have 
as its rule the elevation toward the invisible. It was 
necessary for the mind to form the habit of always look- 
ing upward, of searching for God in everything. It is 
here that Neo-platonic mysticism manifested itself in all 
its force. For this philosophy which craved God, the 
ordinary operations of the spirit were not sufficient; they 


272 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


were toe timid and too short for its desires. What was 
necessary for it was the immediate vision of the supreme 
unity, the direct contact with it. How was this to be 
done, unless by abolishing thought itself? This is pre- 
cisely what it pretended to realize by ecstasy, a state of 
the soul truly indescribable, in which, forgetting its own 
self, it identified itself in a sort of transport with the 
God which it was seeking. 

Nothing shows us better than this mystical dream the 
extent to which the Hellenic soul was tired, at that time, 
of reasoning. It made use of reason in order to show the 
impotence of the power of reasoning. What it realized 
in this large intellectual construction, in which it seemed 
to revive its entire past, was, on the whole, the renuncia- 
tion of this very past, which had been characterized es- 
sentially by practical wisdom and reasoned activity. And 
this was not an individual fact. Neo-platonism was 
destined to prove, by its success, that it was indeed the 
adequate form of that older Hellenism which had outlived 
itself. 


CHAPTER VI 
THE END OF HELLENISM 


Last Resistance of Hellenism.—The last part of the 
third century and almost the entire fourth century wit- 
ness the end of Hellenic civilization, at least in the sense 
that at the close of this period, ceasing to live on its own 
resources and in its integrity, it continued to exist there- 
after only partially in Greek Christianity, which derived 
its principal force from other sources. But before thus 
effacing itself, it sought to erect a dam against the rising 
tide which was about to submerge it. It is necessary to 
describe briefly the nature of this opposition, in order to 
form a judgment of the resources of life which still re- 
mained to it. 


(1) THE CONFLICT OF THE RELIGIONS 


Invasion of Foreign Religions.—For a long time, as we 
have seen, the relations of Greece with the peoples whom 
it called barbarians had had the effect of introducing 
foreign elements into its national religion. But this sort 
of invasion, slow and insidious, had never given rise to a 
conflict. As a rule, indeed, Greek polytheism had ad- 
mitted the foreign gods and had finally conferred a sort 
of naturalization upon them. During the Hellenistic 
period, especially, many Oriental cults, of Phrygia, of 
Syria, and of Egypt, had become Hellenic cults. Their 


gods were recognized and celebrated in the kingdoms of 
273 


274 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Greek origin which had succeeded the ancient local 
monarchies, and the official theology was charged with as- 
signing to these newcomers a place of honor on Olympus. 
On the other hand, the philosophy was never short of 
allegorical interpretations, which were applied as well to 
the beliefs of hellenized nations as to the ancient religion 
of Greece proper. Never, therefore, had the latter been 
profoundly troubled by that which it received from with- 
out. 

Judaism alone had refused, even in accepting Greek 
culture, to allow itself to be absorbed in this way. Its 
strict monotheism did not lend itself to any com- 
promise with polytheism. But the propagation of Juda- 
ism was neither sufficiently rapid nor sufficiently in- 
tense to disquiet Hellenism. It was the same with Chris- 
tianity during the two following centuries. So long as 
it appeared to the representatives of Greek polytheism 
only as an obscure sect, it inspired in them scarcely 
more than a sentiment of misapprehension; and none of 
them took the trouble to combat it. ‘The disbelievers 
themselves, such as Lucian, who make satire of the public 
cults, contented themselves with aiming a few stinging 
darts at it in passing; and probably Celsus, who seems to 
have attacked it more directly, did not take it for a very 
redoubtable adversary either. Nevertheless, about this 
time, toward the end of the second century, it happened 
that things began to change. The apologists were suc- 
ceeded by teachers. The teaching of Clement of Alexan- 
dria marks a new epoch; and this teaching was enlarged 
and strengthened and rendered more precise in the course 
of the third century, according as the Christian Church or- 
ganized itself and opened schools. In the face of the phi- 
losophies of paganism, one sees rising at that time a 
Christian philosophy which opposes its doctrine to the doc- 


THE END OF HELLENISM 275 


trines of the celebrated sects; and naturally it is Neo- 
platonism on which devolves the duty of resisting it. At 
the beginning, however, it seems that no very well defined 
position was taken on either side. ‘The Christian teachers 
were themselves Platonists. Origen had perhaps the 
same teacher as Plotinus; and in any case their writings 
attest a certain community of ideas on many points. On 
the other hand, Plotinus does not seem to have taken issue 
with Christianity either in his teachings or in his writings. 
It is after him that the rivalry is openly declared. 
Porphyrus.—It manifested itself in two forms in the 
works of Porphyrus, his most celebrated pupil and his 
continuator: by direct attacks against the Christians, 
and by a very frank wish to rejuvenate polytheism and 
to fortify it by placing it under the protection of phi- 
losophy. There is preserved for us almost nothing of 
the work of fifteen volumes which he composed against 
the Christians; only the writings of the Fathers, notably 
St. Augustine, indicate the fame which he had in his 
time. Insofar as we are able to judge of it, it was not 
an injurious diatribe. Porphyrus looked upon Jesus as 
a man of remarkable virtues. It was not His person 
that he attacked, therefore; it was the idea of a God 
made man and the fundamental dogma of redemption as 
well as its practical consequence. He was to see in this 
theology, as a matter of fact, a new principle contrary 
to the essential idea that Neo-platonism had made of 
God and of His relations to humanity. But this criticism 
of Christianity had for Porphyrus himself, probably, only, 
a secondary importance. What concerned him especially 
was to affirm the doctrine of Plotinus. The latter had 
charged him to publish his writings; he placed in order 
the 4’nneades and made of it the work which we read. 
His erudition and activity as a writer were great. A 


276 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


grammarian, a commentator, a literary critic, he had 
a variety of knowledge which his teacher did not pos- 
sess, altho otherwise he was very inferior to him as re- 
gards originality of thought. All his resources were 
placed at the service of philosophy, which was very dear 
to him. Several things in his works deserve to be 
emphasized. 

Porphyrus had a very strong notion that the entire 
Hellenic tradition was at stake in the conflict of ideas 
in which he was engaged, and that consequently it was 
this tradition which Neo-platonism was to defend. For 
him it was a question of bringing to light both examples 
and ideas. ‘This was the object of his History of Philo- 
sophy, of which we still possess the first book, devoted 
to the Life of Pythagoras. The latter was represented 
in it, not only as a thinker, but as an inspired sage, almost 
superior to humanity, endowed with a truly miraculous 
power and authority over souls. Legend is mixed with 
history. The devotees of Hellenism found in such a book 
an apology of their beliefs and a subject of edification. 
The same intention existed, no doubt, in the work entitled 
Philosophy according to the Oracles. Hellenic polythe- 
ism lacked a sacred book to which it might have recourse. 
Porphyrus thought that the collections of oracles which 
were current at that time might constitute this funda- 
mental book if some one could comment upon them in such 
a way as to establish that they contained a doctrine. 
This was the object which he proposed to himself. He 
wished to show that his religion, that which he opposed to 
Christianity, was not a work of human invention, but that 
it proceeded from a divine revelation, and that this revela- 
tion, well interpreted, was in accord with the modernized 
Platonic teachings. In this enterprise his syncretism 
did not hesitate to mix with the Greek oracles those of 


THE END OF HELLENISM 277 


the Chaldean astrologers, faithful in that to the spirit 
of the time, which no longer conceived the religions as 
national. 

As regards morality, Porphyrus seems to have had 
analogous intentions. His four volume treatise on Ab- 
stinence from Meat, otherwise multilated, is anything but 
an occasional work such as its title might suggest. It 
is in fact a sort of body of precepts, designed to reg- 
ulate, if not the common life, at least that of souls 
touched by a high ideal of perfection. The question of 
aliment is here considered only in its relation to spiritual- 
ity, which for the author is everything. What he teaches, 
what he demands with a stern conviction, is absolute 
renunciation of the satisfaction of the senses; it is detach- 
ment, from which for him all virtues result and without 
which he adjudges the latter impossible. In this we see 
Neo-platonism veering decidedly toward asceticism, as if 
it felt the need of exalting its forces, of redoubling its in- 
most energy, in order better to defend itself. At the 
time when he seems to concentrate all Hellenic civiliza- 
tion in himself, it is curious to observe that, by the force 
of circumstances, he loses precisely that sense of modera- 
tion which had been one of its most original characteris- 
tics in the heyday of its glory. 

Iamblichus and Julian.—Porphyrus was succeeded, as 
head of the school, by another Syrian, Iamblichus, in 
whom the tendencies which have just been set forth were 
still further exaggerated. The Orient penetrates more 
and more into Hellenism, while exaltation and mysticism 
develop at the expense of sane reason. Iamblichus is for 
his pupils more than a man; there is something divine 
in him. The pious admiration which attaches to his per- 
son is not justified by the force of his thoughts; it is 
due to the mysterious power attributed to him. His 


278 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


role is that of an interpreter of God. One listens to him 
with devotion; and in listening to him, one feels clarified, 
consoled, and exalted. From the little that remains of 
his numerous writings, and from references added to them, 
we are able to picture him less as a philosopher, properly 
speaking, than as a sort of preacher. He discusses 
hardly at all; he comments piously and with abandon; 
he teaches people to believe and to pray. His subtle 
mind finds in the writings of Plato, of Aristotle, of the 
Pythagoreans, and of Plotinus, and also in those of the 
Orphics and the Chaldeans, everything necessary to his 
theology. With him, moreover, practical religion is in- 
separable from doctrine and apparently more important. 
He attaches the greatest value to sacrifices, to prayer, 
to the worship of images, and to divination; he lives 
and he maintains his pupils in the belief in miracles. 
Magic itself found acceptance in this milieu, in which 
the critical sense was obliterated more and more, and in 
which the strangest credulity developed. 

This was the time at which Constantine was converted 
to Christianity, which was becoming the official religion 
of the Empire. If the Council of Nicza did not succeed 
in destroying the disagreement which compromised it, it 
nevertheless gave to its fundamental dogmas an authority 
which was to insure its success in the long run. More- 
over, the Arianism of Constance was no more favorable 
to polytheism than was the orthodoxy of Constantine. 
Against this spiritual power which triumphed, this de- 
generated philosophy, so disloyal to the principles which 
it pretended to represent, was a very weak defense. The 
reign of Julian (361-863 3. c.) could, it is true, delude 
for a moment those who remained attached to it. The 
young prince had nothing more at heart than to regen- 
erate polytheism and to make it once more the religion 


THE END OF HELLENISM 279 


of the State; and in order to accomplish this reform he 
became inspired with Neo-platonism, the doctrines of 
which he had embraced with ardor. Iamblichus in partic- 
ular, altho he had been dead thirty years, was the ob- 
ject of his most active admiration. He therefore did 
everything in his power, both as an emperor and as a 
writer, to give new life to the ancient cults and to in- 
sure them of the support of an appropriate theology. 
His premature death put an end to an attempt which was 
destined, in every way, to prove useless. 

Hellenism at the End of the Fourth Century.—From 
that time on Hellenism was doomed to proceed rapidly 
to its end. In the last half of the fourth century, those 
who still perpetuated its traditions were only men of the 
second order, philosophers or rhetoricians. Alongside of 
the Neo-platonists of the Athenian school, the only ones 
that we have to mention here are the philosopher The- 
mistius and the rhetoricians Libanius and Himerius. 
Themistius, who taught philosophy at Antioch, at Nico- 
media, and at Constantinople, and who became a political 
personage under the reign of Theodosius, had a logical 
but superficial mind, and was an agreeable writer and a 
deserving orator, but who, all in all, did not rise above 
an elegant mediocrity in his paraphrases of various writ- 
ings of Aristotle, or in his speeches either. His contem- 
porary, Himerius, gained a wide reputation with short 
works, school compositions, in which his brilliant imagina- 
tion created a sort of reflection of classical works by 
which he was inspired. Libanius of Antioch is more en- 
titled than either to mention in a historical survey of 
Greek civilization. It can not be denied that he repre- 
sented it with a certain glory at the moment when it was 
about to become extinct. His renown, the friendship of 
several emperors, the honors conferred upon him, pro- 


280 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


cured for him a high consideration in the Greek world 
of that time. In his numerous writings that have come 
down to us, speeches, letters, scholarly compositions, bio- 
graphical and historical notices relative to Demosthenes, 
we recognize a remarkably cultivated mind, an extensive 
knowledge of classical literature, and a generally sane 
judgment. ‘The man himself does not fail to inspire one 
with esteem and sympathy. In the midst of the religious 
conflicts which divided the Greco-Roman world at that 
time, he succeeded in maintaining the attitude of an honest 
man, a stranger to violences of language, attached with- 
out irreconcilability to a tradition which many others 
detested from interest. For that reason he holds hon- 
orably his place at the end of that long gallery of figures 
which, one after another and in widely varying degrees, 
expressed the changing aspects of Hellenism. 

The Last Neo-platonists.—Altho decisively driven back 
by Christianity from the time of the death of Julian, 
Neo-platonism continued as an independent sect thruout 
the entire fifth century and the first third of the following 
century. It would be of no interest to enumerate here 
the names, long since forgotten, of those who professed 
his doctrines at that time, either at Alexandria or at 
Athens. Let us merely do them the justice of recogniz- 
ing that they gave proof, in their attachment to the past, 
of a firmness which was not lacking in nobility. Men of 
' tradition, of timid mentality and devoid of originality, 
but of sincere conviction, they could not make up their 
minds to deny so many admirable teachings, of which they 
felt themselves to be the inheritors. On the other hand, 
they were not capable of developing them by new re- 
searches. Free scientific investigation, which alone would 
have been able to furnish their thought with a truly pro- 
ductive element, was foreign to them. Men no longer 


THE END OF HELLENISM 281 


studied directly either nature, or the human race, or so- 
ciety. It seemed that concerning these subjects, however 
inexhaustible, everything had been said. Science appeared 
to them achieved, and they thought they possessed it in 
perfect form in the works on which they did not cease to 
meditate. Was it reasonable to wish to outdo Plato and 
Aristotle? All their intellectual activity was employed 
in commenting upon them. The most illustrious of these 
commentators was the Syrian, Proclus, of whose works 
there is still extant a considerable number relative to vari- 
ous treatises of Plato, two epitomes of the Neo-platonic 
doctrine, and a few secondary opuscules. Others have 
left us an entire collection of commentaries on Aristotle. 
Their common fault is a prolixity, which is all the more 
regrettable for the reason that it tends less to clarify 
the true thought of the author under consideration than 
to alter it ingeniously to the end of bringing it closer 
to the Neo-platonic doctrines. 

As little dangerous as were these last representatives of 
Greek polytheism, their refusal to adhere to the victorious 
religion was imputed to them as a crime by the Emperor 
Justinian. An edict which he issued in 532 a. p. ordered 
the closing of the School of Athens and interdicted the 
teaching of a philosophy which the Christian Church 
disapproved. Its last representatives had to take the 
road of exile. They took refuge with the king of the 
Parthians, Chosroes. The truth is, however, that the 
civilization properly called Hellenic had ceased to exist 
long before the Greek empire had pronounced the death 
sentence over it. It gradually became extinct in the 
course of the fourth century. <A part of its vigor had 
then passed over into Christianity and had animated the 
eloquence of such men as Basil, Gregory of Nazianzus, 
and Chrysostom. Another part had for a long time been 


282 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


incorporated with Latin civilizations. Hence we may 
now evaluate Hellenic civilization in its entirety, but first 
let us cast a retrospective glance at the evolution of 
Greek art during the Hellenistic period and in the time 
of the Empire. 


(2) HELLENISTIC AND GRECO-ROMAN ART 


General Surcey.—After the admirable productions of 
the fifth and sixth centuries B.c., Greek art found itself 
in possession of school traditions and of models of all 
kinds. This was at once an advantage and a danger 
for it. It was relatively easy for the artists of the fol- 
lowing centuries to imitate their predecessors, and by imi- 
tating them they could produce beautiful results. On 
the other hand, it was difficult to achieve something dif- 
ferent and to show oneself truly original. Imitation im- 
posed itself, in a sense, upon talent. It is not surprising 
that, on the whole, it dominated the works of this time. 
What is remarkable, is the fact that it did not more com- 
pletely paralyze inventiveness and that the latter actually 
manifested itself—at least during the Hellenistic period 
—in so large a number of works of art which bear withers 
to the brilliant vitality of the Greek genius, 

Architecture—The building up of the kingdoms 
which were established after the death of Alexander gave 
occasion for important architectural works. The or- 
ders of the cities were succeeded by commands of the kings. 
The latter had to create the greatest possible impression 
of their power, and, in order to satisfy their political 
ambitions or their vanity, they scarcely took the question 
of expense into account. A certain pomp was for them 
a means of government, and the absolute power at their 
disposal gave them the assurance of abundant resources. 


THE END OF HELLENISM 283 


Desirous of glory, they demanded that everything about 
them should acquire an air of magnificence. What had 
formerly appeared large in their eyes was now too small. 
Art had to become commensurate with their pride. More- 
over, were they not obliged, since they resided in the 
Orient, to rival the imposing or even colossal works which 
the ancient civilizations of Assyria and of Egypt had pro- 
duced and which struck so many visitors with astonish- 
ment? ‘The problem which the Greek architects had to 
solve was that of adapting these new demands to their 
traditions of harmony and of moderation. Several of 
them extricated themselves from this difficulty to their 
honor, thereby giving evidence that the inventive faculty 
was not stifled in them by respect for the great models. 

Nothing is better calculated to give us an idea of the 
building passion which reigned at that time than the de- 
scription of Alexandria which we read in Strabo. It 
lays before our eyes an immense city, sprung from the 
ground in 331, and growing almost visibly during the suc- 
cessive reigns of the first Ptolomies. Each of them 
wished to have an entirely new residence, and so a series 
of contiguous palaces were added, one after another, to 
that of the founder of the dynasty. The royal quarter 
finally occupied a quarter or even a third of the city. 
There the Museum was erected, a vast edifice containing a 
library, porticoes, exedrae, halls of conversation, and 
planted courts. Not far from it was the necropolis of 
the kings, with the tomb of Alexander and the princely 
sepulchers. A part of these magnificent structures over- 
looked the sea. All around and behind them lay the city, 
built upon a rectlinear plan, with its two long streets, 
broad and straight, perpendicular to each other, into 
which the secondary streets led. Along the shore were 
the port, the quays, and the docks, appropriate to the 


284 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


needs of a great commercial center such as the city was 
at that time, protected by an immense mole and covered 
on the broad side by the island of Pharos, on which rose 
the celebrated tower, considered one of the wonders of 
the world, which had been erected by the architect Sos- 
tratus of Cnidus. In the city itself, there were numerous 
admirable temples, the great gymnasium with its porti- 
coes more than a stadium in length, the spiral belvedere 
called the Paneion, from which the view embraced a vast 
perspective, the hippodrome, and numerous special struc- 
tures. Beside the extraordinary grandeur of the plan, 
this description reveals a truly characteristic harmony 
of conception. One finds here the geometric spirit which 
Greek architecture never abandoned; but one also senses 
a free originality which can adapt itself to a new 
state of things. What is thus attested as regards one 
of the largest capitals of that time applies also, save for 
variations of detail, to the majority of the others, to 
Antioch, to Seleucia, to Pergamus; and, in a certain de- 
gree, to some of the cities of the Greek mainland, notably 
to Athens, which owed to the Lagide and to the kings 
of Pergamus embellishments and new buildings. 

The ruins of some edifices, carefully studied in our day, 
bear witness to the taste which was then general. We 
may cite particularly those of the temples of Artemis Leu- 
cophryne at Magnesia on the Meander, of Dionysus at 
-'Teos, of Apollo at Didymus, of Ascelpias at Tralles, con- 
structed in the third century, those of the porticoes of 
Eiumenes and Attalus at Athens and of the temple of Zeus 
Stratius at Alabanda, constructed in the second century. 
In almost all of these architectural creations there is 
manifested the desire to strike the imagination at once 
by the magnificence of the plan and the richness of the 
decoration. ‘The use of marbles, of colored stuccoes and 


THE END OF HELLENISM 285 


of incrustations, and the ornamentation of the capitals 
and friezes, add to the peculiar beauty of the lines and 
proportions the charm of a rich and varied orna- 
mentation. The architects seem to take pleasure in sof- 
tening the rigidity of the profiles by graceful undulations ; 
they multiply and ingeniously diversify the color effects 
obtained by the polychrome. They seek the contrast of 
light and dark places. 

One of the most remarkable specimens of this archi- 
tectural decoration has been furnished to us by the ex- 
cavations at Pergamus. In the second century, the At- 
talide, proud of the extension given by them to their 
kingdom in consequence of their victories over the Gala- 
tians, wished to commemorate them by a monumental 
building. They built in their capital a sort of gigantic 
altar, which resembled an artificial acropolis. In the 
middle of an immense esplanade there rose a square foun- 
dation, reposing upon a powerful stone surbase, which 
was itself elevated upon some degrees and surmounted by 
a cornice. The superior surface was surrounded by a 
full wall, save on the south side, where the foundation of 
the surbase was notched by a broad stairway of twenty- 
four steps giving access to the platform. By these steps 
one reached the interior court, which was surrounded by 
a portico of Ionian columns. In the middle there rose 
the altar of Zeus and Athena. Two sculptured friezes 
formed the exterior ornamentation of the monument; one 
of them, the larger, decorated the surbase and the sides 
of the stairway, extending for a length of more than 120 
meters; the other, smaller, ornamented the height of the 
wall. No doubt an Athenian of the time of Phidias and 
Ictinus would have felt strongly that in this entire con- 
ception there was a degree of pompousness resulting 
from the too perceptible disproportion between the gran- 


286 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


deur of the plan and the purpose of the edifice; but in a 
very different society there were lacking new means of 
producing an effect, and one can not deny to the archi- 
tects of Pergamus the merit of a bold invention which 
was not without beauty. 

The necessary result of these numerous and diverse 
works was to develop and perfect, in certain respects, the 
architectural technique. Led to solve multiple problems, 
the builders of this time had to conceive appropriate 
means and, little by little, to make rules which were laid 
down in formulas. For the fitting up of the theaters 
particularly, for the drainage of the cities and for the 
instalation of baths, gymnasia and stadia, experience and 
observation suggested views from which theories were 
soon derived. In this way was constituted a doctrine 
which the Greek architects of the Hellenistic period trans- 
mitted, on the one hand, to the Latin architects and, on 
the other hand, to their successors of the first centuries 
of the Empire. We find it condensed in the treatise of 
Vitruvius, composed in the reign of Augustus, and we 
know what influence it exerted upon the architects of the 
Renaissance. In the legacy of Hellenic civilization, 
therefore, this is an element which is not to be overlooked. 

Sculpture-—The circumstances which favored archi- ~ 
tecture were not less propitious to the arts which con- 
tribute to the ornamentation of buildings, especially to 
sculpture and painting. ‘The Hellenistic period saw both 
of them flourishing thruout the entire Greek world. 
But never were the workshops of sculpture more active 
or more numerous than during these three centuries. 
The kings vie with one another in ordering new statues, 
groups, and bas-reliefs; and as might be expected, pri- 
vate men of wealth followed the example of the kings 
according to their means. Thus encouraged and stimu- 


THE END OF HELLENISM 287 


lated, remarkable artists were not wanting. Naturally 
they could not carry into their work the religious and 
national inspiration which had animated the masters of 
the preceding centuries. There was no longer any father- 
land for them, properly speaking; and the gods were not 
looked upon with the same sentiments of profound piety 
and respectful fear. On the other hand, the Hellenistic 
sculptors were no less subject than the architects of the 
same time to the influence of the models which claimed 
their admiration. However that may have been, the in- 
ventive genius of Greece continued to live in them. Their 
prolific activity succeeded in creating, even in imitation, 
an art which had its own originality and the influence of 
which was great. Some of their works, saved from de- 
struction, are still justly admired. 

Modern science has been able to classify these artists 
in schools, or at least in local groups. It has distin- 
guished the workshops of Pergamus, of Rhodes, of Tralles 
and of Alexandria, each of these cities being rep- 
resented either by famous works or else by families of 
sculptors whose names it has collected and whose relation- 
ship it has reconstituted. Here it will suffice to define 
some of the traits which characterized the art of this 
time. 

One of the most striking is that desire to work on a 
large scale which we have already discovered in the works 
of the contemporary architecture. The sculptural deco- 
ration of the gigantic altar of Pergamus mentioned above 
offers the most conclusive evidence of it. The lower 
frieze referred to, the one which surrounded the surbase 
and the sides of the monumental stairway, represented 
the victory of Zeus and Athena over the giants, a symbol 
of the victory which the Attalide had won over the bar- 
barians. Never had Greek art made a similar effort to 


288 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


give expression to the deployment of muscular force, 
exalted by the fury of combat. Convulsed bodies, vio-~ 
lent gestures, monstrous but skillfully combined forms, 
made an ensemble of powerful effect. The majesty of the 
victorious gods was opposed, moreover, to the desperate 
rage of the conquered giants. The nobility or the grace 
of several figures attenuated happily what there was of 
necessary brutality in certain other parts. Thus from 
the spectacle of this tumult, from this superhuman con- 
test, the spectator clearly gained an impression of the 
superiority of a force which is at once intelligent and 
master of itself. In this, as also in the technical merit 
of the work, the perpetuity of the Greek tradition mani- 
fested itself. Yet it was no less evident that new means 
were also being used. 

Another interesting trait of the same art was the search 
for the pathetic. It seems that the increasing success of 
the classical tragedy was an important factor here. 
Sculpture, deriving inspiration from the most popular 
tragic scenes, was itself led to an attempt to represent, 
by its own means, touching situations. ‘To the Hellen- 
istic period belong some celebrated groups which bear 
witness to this tendency. We need but mention the 
Laocoon, the entreaty of Dirce (known as the Farnese 
Bull), the death of the Niobe—all subjects borrowed 
from the legends which the theater had popularized. 
In all these works there is exhibited the same care to 
translate into the immobility of the marble, by expressive 
attitudes, what poetry had described or laid before the 
eyes of the spectators. Certain it is that one might well 
make reservations on the opportuneness of this alliance 
between statuary and literature; but in any case the 
renown of the works just mentioned bears witness to the 


THE END OF HELLENISM 289 


influence which Hellenistic art has continued to exert 
even in our day. 

Technical perfection also was instrumental in engag- 
ing the sculptors in difficult undertakings. Possessing 
all the secrets of the trade, it is only natural that they, 
were tempted to make a show of them. Too much of 
science runs the risk of lapsing into virtuosity. Hellen- 
istic sculpture did not always escape from this. In the 
analysis of the details of the human body, in the observa- 
tion of movements and gestures, the masters of this 
time had nothing more to learn. They delighted in prov- 
ing it by the finish of their productions. The well- 
known statue known as The Dying Gladiator, which 
probably represents a Galatian defending himself against 
a horseman, is in its technical perfection almost a study 
of the anatomy of a living body. Moreover, if the 
Aphrodite of Melos and some of her sisters are also, as 
there is reason to believe, works of the same epoch, one 
can not deny that this virtuosity sometimes produced 
exquisite beauty. In any case, it permitted those who 
possessed it to reproduce, at their pleasure, and with 
the greatest precision, all the variations, all the caprices 
even, of nature. So it is that they exceled both in the 
marble or bronze portrait and in the sculpture of genre. 
No epoch has produced more sculptured effigies, each one 
attesting, by means of expressive traits, an individual 
resemblance which was bound to be striking. None, 
moreover, imagined more gracious or amusing subjects, 
laughing or angry cupids, children playing with one an- 
other or with domestic animals, and grotesque figures. 
Still better than marble, bronze and sometimes gold or 
silver lent themselves to these caprices of artistic inven- 
tion. All our museums have statuettes, groups, chiseled 
reliefs on cups or vases, mirror frames, which permit us 


290 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


to admire the variety of imagination and the ingenious 
skill of their authors; and the Greek Anthology has pre- 
served for us a goodly number of epigrams which contain 
descriptions of these pretty things. | 

Painting—There is no doubt that for the decoration 
of the buildings spoken of above, the art of the painters 
was drawn upon as much as the art of the sculptors. 
And the taste for the portrait, which the latter had to 
satisfy so frequently, called no less for the talent of the 
former. Unfortunately, the productions of the brush 
are essentially perishable. Nothing is left which enables 
us to appreciate for ourselves the works which at that 
time made famous artists, such as Aétion, Theon of 
Samos, and others whose names are mentioned by various 
authors. But we should state that the Hellenis- 
tic taste, as it has just been characterized in sculpture, 
likewise manifested itself in painting. ‘There, too, the 
artists delighted in pathetic scenes, inspired by the 
tragedies; and on the other hand, they showed themselves 
no less interested in the study of details. ‘They sought to 
translate, by the means which were peculiar to them, such 
phases of sentiments which the renowned actors had 
realized, the moral tortures of Medea, her supreme fears 
and her ragings, the somber resolution of Ajax, the 
horrors of the entreaty of Iphigenia, the distraction of 
Agamemnon. Fascinated by naturalism, they put into 
fashion familiar scenes, subjects of genre, views of in- 
teriors, in which the reproduction of the real objects did 
not exclude a bit of fantasy. It seemed probable also 
that, under the influence of the pastoral form, they gave 
a new importance to the countryside; many legends lent 
themselves to this, notably those which placed on the 
scene centaurs, inhabitants of the mountains, Polyphemus 
and Galatea, the gods of the sea and their adventures. 


THE END OF HELLENISM 291 


Even caricature appears to have been in honor at that 
time. In the absence of the originals, many painted vases 
still bear witness to this diversity of efforts, which were 
often successful. And from this we draw, on the whole, 
the idea of an art which no doubt lived much from imita- 
tion, which probably produced nothing great, in the true 
sense of the word, but which gave proof of a remarkable 
technical skill, associated with grace, sometimes with 
emotion, and almost always with an ingenious or amus- 
ing inventiveness. 

Greek Art under the Empire.—Between this Hellenistic 
art and the Greek art of the imperial epoch there was 
no interruption of continuity. The second is only the 
prolongation of the first. Only thru the effect of the 
political unification which the imperial régime imposed 
upon the world did the exchange of ideas, the mutual 
penetration of examples and of influences, become increas- 
ingly free at that time. The Roman taste made itself 
accepted everywhere, but it was itself entirely penetrated 
by the teachings of Greece. Thus from the first cen- 
tury A.D. it is very nearly impossible to distinguish what 
is properly Greek and what is Roman or Oriental. There 
is scarcely an artistic production of this time which does 
not contain elements of diverse origin. What one may 
say, however, is that in all the arts, up to the time when 
Christianity predominates, the Greek tradition, in the 
Orient, is much the strongest. Architecture particularly, 
in the first and second centuries, remains in this part of 
the Empire a Greek architecture in all its essential traits. 
The emperors, from the Cexsars to the Antonys, em- 
bellish the Greek cities, especially those of Asia, as much 
as or more so than the kings of the Hellenistic period. 
But whatever may be the number and importance of the 
works of art which they bestow upon them, neither the 


292 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


art of the builder nor that of the sculptor or painter 

appear to be marked at that time by original creations. — 
And as for the combinations which they realized more 
or less happily, they can not be studied here. All in all, 
it is the Hellenistic taste, diversely modified in details, 
which continues to prevail; and whereas the knowledge 
and the practice of the profession maintain themselves, 
the art perpetuates itself honorably. The decadence does 
not make itself definitely felt until after the third century, 
first in consequence of civil wars, later as the result 
of barbarian invasions. But it is also at that time that 
there commences, under the influence of Christianity, a 
new Greek art, which will be the Byzantine art. We have 
not to speak of it here. The arrival of Byzantine civili- 
zation marks the time when Hellenic civilization, prop- 
erly so called, ceases to exist, 


CHAPTER VII 
CONCLUSION 


Lasting Value of Greek Civilization—Thus this sum- 
mary survey of Greek civilization comes to anend. And 
now that we have passed over the entire scene in review, 
how does it behoove us to judge it as a whole? A 
purely individual appreciation would have little value here. 
It is to history that we must refer. Let us ask our- 
selves, therefore, what influence this civilization has 
exerted upon the evolution of humanity. The facts con- 
sulted will speak for themselves, and we shall have only to 
collect their testimony. At first sight, however, it 
appears that something of Hellenic civilization is visible 
in almost all the civilizations that have succeeded it. 
We find it present and active in Imperial Rome and at 
Byzantium, then, across the Middle Ages, in the epoch of 
the Renaissance, and in modern times. What thus en- 
dures necessarily has in itself a virtue which can not be 
contested ; and the best means of determining it, no doubt, 
is to note its effect where it makes itself felt most 
strongly. 


(1) GREEK CIVILIZATION AT ROME 


It is a commonplace but an incontestable truth that 
Rome, in order to achieve its intellectual and moral educa- 
tion, had to go to school in Greece. The Romans them- 
selves were the first to recognize this, and they were proud 


of it. There is no doubt that this acceptance of a foreign 
293 


294 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


influence was not with them a renunciation of their own 
character. While hellenizing themselves, they still re- 
mained Romans. But their culture was mainly a Greek 
culture. It was to Greece that they owed their literature, 
their philosophy, their scientific knowledge, and their 
arts. It was Greece which made them completely hu- 
man. That, at the same time, it brought to them defects 
and even vices, is not to be denied. Does there not exist 
in every well developed civilization the inevitable counter- 
part of good? Greece, grown old, could not react vigor- 
ously enough against this interior evil, nor yet could Im- 
perial Rome. It is none the less true that, in her very 
decadence, the highest virtues which subsisted in Rome 
were inspired by Greek idealism. 

In the political order Rome was least subject to the 
influence of Greece; it even seems that, if one holds to 
institutions, it escaped this influence altogether. The 
republic developed with the Roman people three causes 
which were peculiar to them, outside of every external 
influence; and the Empire followed the Republic because 
circumstances had made ready for its arrival. But the 
history of institutions is not to be confounded with that 
of ideas and sentiments. If we consider on the one hand 
the political theories, and on the other hand the laws 
and the sentiments of the Romans, we are bound to 
recognize that the part played by Greece was large. The 
Republic of Cicero would not have been conceived if 
Thucydides, Plato, Aristotle, Polybius, and other his- 
torians or philosophers had not written beforehand; and 
if the Republic is the work of a student, we should not 
forget that this student was also a man of state in con- 
stant relations with others interested in the same sub- 
jects. As for the Roman laws, is 1t not also under the 
influence of Greek philosophy that we see them softening 


CONCLUSION 295 


down and humanizing themselves, according as it injects 
the Hellenic spirit into Latin society? Finally, if the 
sentiment of liberty still existed under the Empire, if 
sometimes it manifested itself even in the form of op- 
position, how can we fail to recognize that alongside of 
traditional hatred of aristocratic tendencies the Stoic 
doctrines were also a factor? All this is so evident that 
there is no reason even for dwelling upon it. 


(2) GREEK CIVILIZATION AND CHRISTIANITY 


If we pass from Roman paganism to Christianity, the 
part played by Hellenic civilization is not less manifest. 
Let us not speak here of the evangelic period of the new 
religion, altho even there the Greek influence can be felt 
and pointed out; in any case, it is only secondary. It is 
a little later that it acquires all its force, when Chris- » 
tianity penetrates into the cultivated classes. What does 
it encounter here, as a matter of fact? Minds prepared 
by Hellenic civilization for spiritual things. Its first 
apologists, notably Justinian, the most remarkable of 
them, are disciples of Platonism, who in the Greek 
schools have acquired the habit of reasoning and of the 
study of ideas, and who seek to formulate their senti- 
ments in the language of Greek philosophy. Then come 
the teachers properly so-called, such as Clement, Origen, 
and the members of the Alexandrian School, who organize 
the theology of Christianity—which amounts to saying 
that they insert new beliefs into the intellectual frames 
prepared by Hellenistic thought. And when the Christian 
religion finally prevails, in the fourth century, the literary 
flight which accompanies its victory is in a sense a tak- 
ing possession of Hellenism by its conquerors. In the 
eloquence and dialectics of its orators, in the erudition 


296 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


of its historians, in the patient labor of its chrono- 
graphers, it is the very spirit of Greece, the knowledge 
constituted by it, and in part its methods, which return. 
The charming facility of St. Basil, the ingenious abund- 
ance of St. John Chrysostom, the learned elegance of 
St. Gregory of Nazianzus—did they not proceed from 
Greek literature, poetry as well as prose, as their natural 
source? We may add that Hellenism penetrated Chris- 
tianity in still another way. It was Greek philosophy 
which nourished all the heresies; and it was Greek 
philosophy, too, which furnished orthodoxy with many 
of the weapons which served to combat them. It was 
present, so to speak, in all the discussions from which the 
dogmatic formulas grew; and it inspired almost equally 
the parties in conflict. On the other hand, outside of the 
conflicts, in the more peaceful domain of morality, did it 
not provide Christian teaching with the richest variety of 
precepts, of counsels, of observations and examples?—a 
treasure which the latter could appropriate without 
scruples, since it found here the exquisite expression of 
the practical reason and of the best sentiments on which 
humanity lives. ‘Thus Christianity, from the time when 
it felt assured of victory, itself recognized its obliga- 
tion to Greek civilization. The homily of St. Basil 
to the young people On the Manner of Drawing Profit 
from the Profane Authors is like the manifestation of a 
reconciliation, which, no doubt, did not take place without 
Serious reservations, but which was none the less the 
avowal of a broad community of sentiments. 


(3) GREEK CIVILIZATION IN THE MIDDLE AGES 


The alliance thus contracted in the fourth century was 
destined to undergo more than one vicissitude, but it clung 


CONCLUSION 297 


to causes too natural ever to be entirely broken. As one 
might expect, it was in the Greek orient that it maintained 
itself most solidly. Altho Christian, Byzantine civiliza- 
tion showed itself the heir and in many respects the con- 
tinuator of Hellenic civilization, from which it proceeded 
in direct line. It could not have been otherwise. In the 
Occident, things presented themselves under a different as- 
pect. There it was Latin civilization which was every- 
where extended. It was Latin civilization again which, 
after having undergone the assault of the barbarian in- 
vasions, restored little by little the tradition of learning 
and raised the human mind from its temporary downfall. 
It is all the more curious to see Greece exercising her in- 
fluence in this domain, altho it seems foreign to her. It 
is well known by what roundabout ways Greece penetrated 
there. It was Latin translations, or rather the poor 
Latin manuals, which kept alive some remnants of Hellenic 
science and philosophy, and which rendered possible, 
in the time of Charlemagne and his first successors, the 
restoration of the schools. Already under this form, 
something of the thoughts of Plato, of Aristotle, and 
of Plotinus insinuated itself into this semi-barbarism. 
Thanks to Johannes Scotus Erigena, to Gerbert, to Ber- 
enger, to Lanfranc, to Peter Damianus, and to St. Anselm, 
this first knowledge was enlarged between the ninth and 
the eleventh centuries. Toward the end of this period, and 
at the beginning of the twelfth century, at the time of 
Roscellinus, of William of Champeaux, and of Abelard, the 
quarrel of the realists and the nominalists opposes the 
partizans of Plato to those of Aristotle, whose Organon 
had been known in the Orient since the reign of 
Charlemagne, but the reputation of which was increasing 
in the midst of these conflicts. It increased rapidly when 
new writings of his were rediscovered in the course of the 


298 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


twelfth century, in the guise of translations which the 
Arabian philosophers had made. These translations the 
Jewish philosophers retranslated into Hebrew, and thru 
the Hebrew rendered them accessible to the scholars of 
this time. So it was that in the thirteenth century 
Alexander of Hales and Albertus Magnus made themselves 
the propagators of Aristotelianism, interpreted to their 
spirit. St. Thomas Aquinas, by adding elements bor- 
rowed from Plato and from Neo-platonism, drew from it 
a large doctrine, more wisely coordinated, to which Duns 
Scotus raised opposition which was continued more ac- 
tively by his pupil, Occam. Altogether, it was Greek 
philosophy which, with the teachings of the Fathers and the 
dogmas defined by the Councils, furnished the subject- 
matter of these long and memorable disputes. Under the 
subtleties with which scholasticism enveloped it, it was the 
ferment which aroused men’s minds, and already, while 
placing itself ordinarily at the service of theology, it 
made ready for the arrival of an independent philosophy. 


(4) HELLENIC CIVILIZATION IN THE MODERN WORLD 


With the Renaissance there opens, from the end of the 
fifteenth century on, a new period for the influence of 
Greek civilization. Confined in the Middle Ages to the 
domain of philosophy and theology, it thereafter makes 
itself felt not only in philosophy and the sciences, but 
also in literature, in the arts, in politics, and even—for 
a while, at least—in manners and customs. In other 
words, more or less powerful according to the period and 
locality in question, it becomes one of the integral ele- 
ments of modern civilization. But since the principle of 
liberty involved in it inevitably emancipated the minds 
upon which it exercised itself, the result was that it tended 


CONCLUSION 299 


to eliminate itself by its very action, at least as regards 
its external forms, reducing itself more and more to the 
role of a factor of intellectual and moral enfranchisement. 
To give a survey of an action so extended, so varied, would 
evidently be an endless task, the subject of a large volume. 
Here we must content ourselves with a few rapid in- 
dications. 

In philosophy, this force for emancipative stimula- 
tion is particularly noticeable. In the fifteenth and 
sixteenth centuries it is around Plato and Aristotle, 
thereafter studied directly thru the medium of all 
their works, that scholarly discussions revolve. In 
order to interpret them, to develop their thoughts, 
recourse is had to Neo-platonism, to Plotinus, to Por- 
phyrus, and to all their commentators, according as 
they reappear to light. At that time, however, it 
was the custom to inform oneself in this same way 
of the other philosophic systems of Greece as well. 
New interest is taken in Pythagoras and his school, 
in the Ionians, in the atomism of Democritus and 
Epicurus, as also in Stoicism and Scepticism. It 1s 
an entire world of thoughts, an entire totality of problems 
and of solutions of various kinds which are thus revealed. 
What stimulation for vigorous minds! Suddenly, the 
sterility of scholasticism appears; and here it is that one 
feels the need of reéntering upon all these researches and 
of creating new methods. The seventeenth century 
inaugurates them with glory. Neither Bacon nor Des- 
cartes wishes to be a disciple of Greece; they are in- 
novators who are themselves breaking new paths. But 
in the face of Descartes, Gassendi still remains attached 
to Greek thought, which he essays to defend with the 
newly acquired knowledge. And do not the innovators 
themselves proceed from the movement of ideas which 


300 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


Greek philosophy had started in the two preceding cen- 
turies? Leibnitz associates himself with the conceptions 
of Aristotle and Plato, altho modifying them. This 
emancipation, it is true, continues to accentuate itself; 
Greece seems more and more forgotten by the philosophy 
of the eighteenth century. On the other hand, the rapid 
development of the sciences carries to reflection so large 
a quantity of new materials that each day it becomes more 
and more absorbed in their study. It is to their organi- 
zation that philosophy applies itself especially in the nine- 
teenth century; and it does so in an entirely independent 
spirit. However, no great effort of attention is required 
to perceive that at bottom the great agitated questions 
are always the same, and that the apparently new solu- 
tions are very often nothing more than those of Greek 
antiquity rejuvenated and brought up to date. Relative 
to mind and to matter, to the nature of knowledge, to 
the eternal enigmas of the world, to the relations of the 
infinite and the finite, and to the destiny of man, is it 
not remarked every day that the doubts, the hypotheses, 
of the Greeks are still the same, or very nearly the same, 
as ours? Furthermore, has not the history of Greek 
philosophy been profoundly studied and almost rejuve- 
nated, according as it has become the habit to revert to 
the origin of questions in order closely to study their 
entire development? What matters it, on very many 
points, that we feel the Greeks very far from us? We 
can not fail to recognize that they presented the data 
of the most difficult problems with a simplicity and a 
conciseness from which we can always learn much. 

In literature, something analogous has happened. In 
the sixteenth century, when the masterpieces of Greek 
poetry and prose were brought to light again, the best 
minds seemed dazzled by it. In the face of these models, 


CONCLUSION 301 


it seemed to them that there was nothing better to do 
than imitate them. In France this is true of Ronsard 
and of La Pléiade. Thus practiced, imitation manifestly 
harmed originality. But in this assiduous and somewhat 
superstitious reading of the works of antiquity, judg- 
ment was formed and strengthened. Montaigne has told 
in excellent words how much he owes to Plutarch, and 
his testimony, such as he offers, applies to many of his 
contemporaries. Moreover, the Latin influences, which 
at that time were associated with those of Greece, were 
themselves, in large part, indirect Greek influences; and 
it is the same with a certain number of Italian influences. 
In the seventeenth century, we note a change. Our 
French classical art, altho it continued to draw its in- 
spiration from antiquity, formed at that time a quite 
different idea of imitation, and everybody practiced it 
according to his taste. Honoré de Balzac and Corneille 
are more Roman than Greek, altho the latter bor- 
rows numerous subjects from Greek history; but with 
Racine and Fénelon the sentiment of Hellenic beauty is 
extremely active. There is something like an immediate 
contact of souls between Euripides and the poet of 
Phédre and Iphigénie, between Homer and the author of 
Télémaque. And what thus draws them together, is less 
their direct borrowings than a certain form of sensibility 
or a certain turn of imagination. Something of the Greek 
mind truly passed over into them and penetrated, by 
virtue of the adaptations which they made of the ancient 
subjects, the taste of a public far removed from the 
ancient simplicity. The evident fact is that writers had 
ceased to copy; they admire quite as much as in the pre- 
ceding century, but they endeavor to rival more freely. 
La Bruyére began by translating Theophrastus; then, 
having learned from him the value of precise observation, 


302 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


he observed on his own part and made an original work. 
It even comes about that the new masterpieces inspire in 
some the idea of a revolt against antiquity. The cele- 
brated quarrel of the ancients and the moderns bears 
witness to a desire for independence, which is born of the 
progress of knowledge and the demands of a more ad- 
vanced civilization. This sentiment becomes stronger and 
still more general in the eighteenth century. Voltaire, 
who represents its spirit better than anybody else, places 
strong reservations upon his admiration for the Greeks. 
And the very scholars who translate them and com- 
ment upon them, understand them but poorly. Never- 
theless, in the second half of the century, under the in- 
fiuence of Rousseau, a reaction takes place against the 
abuse of the mind and worldly frivolity; men go back to 
nature, they are charmed by simplicity, by ingenuousness, 
even by civic virtue. Plutarch, expressly praised by the 
author of Emile, regains a popularity which he shares 
with his great men. The Abbé Barthélemy leads his 
numerous hearers into ancient Greece, following his young 
Scythian, Anacharsis. André Chénier, in his delicate and 
charming poems, which were not to be published, it is 
true, until the beginning of the following century, draws 
his inspiration at once from Homer, from Theocritus, and 
from the poets of the Anthology. Finally, the image of 
idealized Sparta dominates the first period of the Revolu- 
tion. Then, thruout the nineteenth century, it seems that 
this Hellenic influence, now exalted, now suppressed and 
momentarily diminished, tended to acquire its just value. 
It has become evident that it can not impose itself. upon 
the modern men of letters as a sole type of perfection. 
Too many new thoughts have come up, too many senti- 
ments which Greece scarcely knew have developed, too 
many forms of art created by other peoples have seduced 


CONCLUSION 303 


the modern soul, for the latter to confine itself henceforth 
to the limits of the ancient conceptions. But precisely 
because taste has broadened, because sensibilities have be- 
come more supple, has it become easier to understand 
them and to appreciate their simplicity, often associated 
with so much profound truth. 

And what is true of literature, is also true of the fine 
arts. Certain it is that since the Renaissance the study 
of Greek architecture and sculpture has not ceased to be 
productive. It has become even more so than ever, since 
in the place of a too confused admiration it has sub- 
stituted an attentive criticism which is able to discern and 
distinguish periods, to note individual characters, and, in 
a word, to classify and judge by comparison both artists 
and works. But if this criticism has taught us better in 
what respect Greece is a magnificent school of beauty, and 
what services it will always render in this capacity to man’s 
innate craving for an ideal, it has also taught us to find 
again in other creations of the human genius, under very 
different forms, the same aspirations and realizations 
which give value to those of Greece. The architecture of 
some of our cathedrals today does not seem inferior to 
that of the Parthenon, nor does the artistic merit of cer- 
tain statues of the Middle Ages seem unequal to that of 
certain works of Scopas or of Praxiteles. More and 
more there is revealed to us, moreover, the art of other 
peoples, previously too little known. The Orient, better 
studied, astonishes and attracts us. From this enlarged 
experience results the very clear sentiment that art can 
not enclose itself in traditional and immutable formulas, 
that it should not even attach itself servilely to the same 
models, howsoever beautiful they are, and that, on the 
contrary, variety and incessant renovation are the very 
law of its life. On the other hand, if it can not 


304 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


become a simple abandonment of the imagination to all 
its caprices, if it must after all always resort to certain 
essential precepts of nature and of reason, why can it not 
find tomorrow, as yesterday and today, in the example 
of Greece, some excellent lessons, which it devolves upon 
each one to appropriate to his time, to his milieu, to his 
personal talent and to his conceptions? 

In politics the influence of Greek civilization has been, 
until the present time, very limited. The great modern 
states, constituted as monarchies, could demand nothing, 
in the way of example or lessons, from the small Greek 
republics, whose conditions of existence were so different 
from theirs. And the democracies themselves, such as 
those of the two Americas, dominated by conditions 
peculiar to themselves, did not imagine that they had any- 
thing in common with the miniature states of olden times, 
of which they knew, moreover, so little. However, the 
political theorists did not share this indifference. Bos- 
suet, in his Universal History, devoted a chapter to the 
governments of ancient Greece, and so called to them 
the attention of reflective minds; mingling numerous 
errors with a few strong observations, he showed what 
these republics owed to the love of liberty and to the 
civic virtues. Montesquieu, in his Spirit of the Laws, 
without presenting a complete view of their public life, 
nevertheless insisted in his turn upon a certain number 
of their characteristic traits. Thanks to these great 
writers, the study of ancient Greece holds a place im: 
political science. It suggested, as we have seen, some 
ideas and certain arguments to many of the men of the 
Revolution. But the reéstablishment and succession of 
monarchic governments relegated it anew to the domain of 
theories. In our day, however, let it be noted that the ex- 
tension of the republican and democratic form of govern- 


CONCLUSION 305 


ment to a large number of nations gives it an interest of 
actuality. It is again becoming for us a historic ex- 
perience of high value, and this change coincides with an 
increase of knowledge which is perceptibly augmenting 
its importance. ‘Today we know the institutions of 
Athenian democracy much more accurately than they were 
known during the last century, and our own country 
(France) is itself a democracy in relation with other 
democracies. Why should we not profit by investigating 
a history which is so manifestly related to our own? 

But this history is instructive; it is doubly so by reason 
of the defects and good qualities which it discloses. 
Democracy, like every other form of government, has need 
of a solid but flexible organization; it has all the more 
need of it because its natural tendency toward individ- 
ualism exposes it, more than any other, to the danger of 
having its elements disintegrate. Did Athens succeed in 
realizing this organization? No. What it lacked es- 
pecially, as we have seen, was an executive power capable 
of giving the people a course that they might follow. It 
did not succeed in establishing a government which suf- 
ficiently insured the continuity of its policy by preserving 
it from improvisations and unreflected errors. To this 
first defect is added a second—the poor constitution of 
the judiciary power. In entrusting to tribunals the care 
of rendering justice, tribunals which were veritable as- 
semblies, it placed justice at the discretion of ignorance 
and the passions. In so doing it removed almost all 
value from the conception of personal responsibility, so 
just in itself, which it attached to every public function. 
Finally, it did not subject the exercise of popular sov- 
ereignty to restrictive conditions, all the more necessary 
in that this sovereignty resided in the most fickle of 
crowds, particularly accessible to those unforeseen move- 


506 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


ments to which a mass of men is always exposed. Here, 
in a few words, we have the part which it is well to as- 
sign first of all to criticism, to the end of determining more 
readily that which deserves to be praised. The glory of 
Athens consists in its having been first to show, in 
antiquity, what a people which governs itself is capable 
of doing in order to assure itself a place of honor in his- 
tory. Athens made itself worthy of this honor by its 
civic spirit, its humanity, and its superior culture. 

Nobody can deny that the Athenians, in the best days 
of their democracy, did not have a truly high idea of the 
rights and duties of the citizen. At that time they showed 
themselves genuinely solicitous of the public good, ready 
for all services which the interest of the State imposed 
upon them, courageous and enduring under arms, re- 
spectful of discipline, accepting with good heart the neces- 
sary sacrifices and fatigue, and, beyond all this, facing 
without complaint the duties assigned to them, proud 
of the reputation of their city, and happy to contribute 
to the increase of a noble sentiment of solidarity. <A 
patriotic ambition animated the entire city, conscious of 
the glorious destiny which seemed to open up before it, 
since it contributed more than any other city to the de- 
fense of the national independence. 

This energy, moreover, was reconciled with a natural 
amiability which won for it a deserved reputation for 
humanity. No doubt when we reflect that slavery was 
looked upon, at Athens as well as everywhere else in the 
ancient world, as a natural fact, and when, on the other 
hand, we see reported by the historians certain acts of 
cruelty of which the Athenian people were guilty, we are 
led to make reservations regarding this point. But noth- 
ing would be less fair than to judge the things of the past 
from the modern point of view. What we must consider 


CONCLUSION 307 


is that the condition of slavery was nowhere of shorter 
duration than among the Athenians; the law itself as- 
sured it a certain protection, and the customs were often 
still more indulgent than the law. As for the acts of 
cruelty which are attested, if it would be excessive to ex- 
cuse them, it should nevertheless be recognized that some 
of them are to be explained by transitory impulses of 
anger, others by the condition of international law, which 
was still in its infancy. These, moreover, are isolated 
facts. In general, the Athenian democracy was hospit- 
able to foreigners. It held it a matter of honor to at- 
tract, not only Greeks from other cities, but also the 
barbarians. It was at Athens that the sentiment of 
human fraternity found the moral dispositions most fav- 
orable to its development. And this instinctive humanity 
manifested itself even in national politics. In its capacity 
as a democracy, the Athenian republic felt itself obliged 
to support democratic principles everywhere. It was 
therefore the natural enemy of oppressive powers, the pro- 
tector of the weak; it had for its watchword the defense 
of liberty. And if we can not deny that this rdle was 
not always as disinterested in reality as it seemed to be 
in the speeches of its orators, it is none the less true that 
there is moral profit and honor for a people in being able 
to direct its activity in this way toward a generous ideal. 
There results for it a habit of thought which ennobles 
it by raising it above the constant obsession of purely 
material interests. 

But among all the titles which recommend the name of 
Athens, none is equal in value to that which it acquired 
by its brilliant intellectual, moral and artistic culture. 
And what is particularly interesting to note is the close 
relationship of this culture to its democratic institutions. 
We know with what accent of pride the poet Aischylus, 


308 HELLENIC CIVILIZATION 


in his tragedy of the Persians, exalts thru the mouths 
of the old men of Susa, before the queen astounded by 
what she hears, the redoubtable force of this people which 
has no monarch. This vivifying influence of liberty was 
likewise emphasized by a foreigner, Herodotus; and one 
must recognize with him that it was one of the principal 
sources of the sentiments which animated the Athenians in 
the fifth century, beginning with the greatest of them, 
Pericles. It was in an atmosphere of democratic liberty 
that all the great works of that time were produced. No 
milieu was more favorable to the brilliant development 
of the tragedy, which was able to represent the human 
passions in a spectacle, before a public prepared by public 
discussions to understand the play of opposing interests. 
No other public would be equally prepared for the bold 
traits of the comedy and for its insolent and incisive crit- 
icisms, which made people think. And what is to be said 
of the orators and historians, matured in this fertile agita- 
tion of the spirits, in this conflict of ideas, in which one 
learned to study events, to scrutinize motives, and to note 
consequences, that is to say, to judge and to evaluate? 
Was it not Athenian liberty which made a Thucydides, 
as it had made a Pericles? Philosophy itself, at least 
moral and social philosophy, which showed itself severe 
toward democracy—from what was it born if not from 
this democracy which it condemned? Is Socrates imagin- 
able elsewhere than in Athens? ‘This observer needed 
the human spectacle which was found only there, and this 
ironic moralist and mocker required the freedom of speech 
which at the time existed nowhere else to the same extent. 
Finally, as regards art, it was not entirely by chance, 
certainly, that it enjoyed at Athens, at that same time, 
so marvelous a development. Without any possible 
doubt, it was due not only to the desire, common in all 


CONCLUSION 309 


Athenians of that time, to give their city a distinction 
worthy of its grandeur and to honor the gods to whom 
they attributed it, but also to a general refinement of 
taste resulting from the activity of all, from their mutual 
relations, from the incessant exchange of ideas, from the 
reception accorded to men of talent from all countries. 
All in all, it was because freedom was responsible for the 
education of Athens that this city, in its turn, was able 
to contribute so largely to the education of humanity. 

Thus, we see clearly that Hellenic civilization, far from 
losing any of its value for us, according as it buries it- 
self in the past, seems on the contrary to acquire greater 
value in our day, in proportion to the efforts put forth 
to know it better. Considered in the succession of epochs 
which we have rapidly traversed, it assuredly presents, as 
does everything human, great inequalities and, alongside 
of brilliant traits, many weaknesses. But if in place of 
considering it so, century by century, according to the 
historical method, we take in at a single glance every- 
thing good which there was in it, everything which has 
been and still remains profitable to humanity, it appears 
as a marvelous source of wisdom, and of light, and of 
beauty. ‘That is why the last word of this study can not 
be anything but an expression of a sentiment of admira- 
tion and of recognition for this little nation of antiquity 
to which we owe so much. 


THE END 





INDEX 


Abelard 297; 

Abydus 13; 

Academy (of Plato) 182; 190; 
224; 230; 235; 237; 261; 262; 
266; 

Acheans 4; 13; 35; 36; 37; 38; 

Achilles 34; 36; 37; 40; 114; 

Achilles Tatius 252; 

Acropolis 8; 28; 70; 151; 152; 

/Egina, Temple of 153; 

/Enesidemus 265; 

AXLolians 5; 

/Eschines 55; 169; 

Aischylus 64; 106; 110; 139-140; 
141; 144; 307; 

Aétion 290; 

Agamemnon 35; 39; 290; 

Ageladas (of Argos) 170; 

Ajax 71; 290; 

Albertus Magnus 298; 

Alceus (of Mitylene) 58; 59; 

Alcamenes 153; 193; - 

Alcibiades 95; 146; 

Aleman (of Lydia) 61; 62; 

Aleuade 59; 

Alexander (of Hales) 298; 

Alexander (the Great) 160; 163; 

— 198; 199; 203; 204; 206; 216; 
217; 219; 224; 235; 282; 283; 
295; 

Alexandria 207; 212; 214; 215; 
245; 252; 255; 260; 265; 280; 
287; 

Alexandrian School 295; 

Alpheus (river) 23; 

Ammonius Saccas 265; 


Anacharsis 302; 

Anacreon (of Teos) 59-60; 

Anaxagoras (of Clazomenz) 
123; 126; 127; 128; 148; 

Anaximander (of Miletus) 66; 
143; 219; 

Anaximenes 
222; 

Andromache 40; 

Androtion 216; 

Anthesteria 21; 97; 98; 

Antigonidae 204; 

Antigonus (of Carystus) 221; 

Antioch 207; 279; 284; 

Antiochus (of Ascalon) 237; 

Antiphon 145; 

Antisthenes 190; 191; 192; 224; 
230 ; 

Antonius 256; 

Antonius Diogenes 252; 

Apelles 198; 199; 

Aphrodite 35; 153; of Cnidus 
197; of Melos 289; 

Apollo 17; 18; Temple of 23; 
Oracle of 25; 94; 99; 
197; 

Apollodorus 154; 

Apollodorus (of Athens) 215; 
217; 

Apollonius (of Perga) 240; 

Apollonius (of Rhodes) 210; 

Apollonius (of Tyana) 264; 

Apollonius Dyscolus 253; 

Appian (of Alexandria) 248; 

Apsines (of Gadara) 252; 

Aratus (of Soli) 211; 


(of Miletus) 66; 


311 


312 


Arcadia 159; 

Arcesilaus (of Pitane) 236; 

Arcesilaus (King of Cyrene) 95; 

Archilochus (of Paros) 53-54; 

Archimedes (of Syracuse) 240; 

Areopagus 79; 

Ares 17; 

Argos 18; 90; 

Arion (of Lesbos) 22; 62; 

Aristarchus (of Samos) 215; 
216; 241; 

Aristides (Aelius) 247; 

Aristippus (of Cyrene) 190; 192; 
224; 231; 

Aristobolus 216; 

Aristonicus (of Rhodes) 237; 

Aristophanes 55; 107; 109; 142- 
143; 173; 

Aristophanes 
215; 

Aristotle (of Stagira) 10; 123; 
125; 147; 163; 171; 178; 182; 
183; 185-190; 222; 224; 227; 
230; 235; 237; 239; 252; 278: 
279; 281; 294; 297; 298; 299; 
300; 

Aristoxenus 255; 

Arrian (of Nicomedia) 248; 259; 

Artaxerxes 175; 

Artemidorus (of Ephesus) 219; 

Artemisia (Queen) 196; 

Artemis 17; 

Asclepidas (of Samos) 212; 

Ascra 45; 

Assyria 283; 

Astyanax 40; 

Athena 8; 18; 28; 57; 153; 194; 
285; 

Atheneus (of Naucratis) 252; 

Athens 7; 8; 9; 10 13; 18; festi- 
vals 21; 55; 57; 68; 71; 7T7- 
81; 89; 95; 96; 99; 102; 107; 
111; 116; 119; 121; 125; 131; 
132; 135; 146; 148; 150; 159; 
160; 163; 165; 224; 231; 237; 


(of Byzantium) 


INDEX 


244; 245; 281; 284; 305; 306; 
307; 308; 309; 
Atreus 62; 
Attalide 204; 287; 
Attica 30; 56; 117; 164; 
Attica School (of sculpture) 70; 
Augustus 21€; 219; 243; 


Babylon 160; 
Bacchylides 95; 99; 
Bacon 186; 299; 
Balzac 301; 

Basil 289; 

Bérenger 297; 

Bias (of Priene) 57; 
Boethius 237; 
Beeotia 25; 45; 46; 
Bosporus 13; 
Bossuet 304; 
Byzantium 13; 203; 293; 


Calamis 153; 

Callimachus (of Cyrene) 212; 
Callinus (of Ephesus) 55; 
Callisthenes (of Plynthus) 216; 
Calydonian Boar 62; 
Canachus (of Sicyon) 70; 
Carnea 21; 

Carneades (of Cyrene) 236; 
Carthaginians 90; 

Cato (of Utica) 230; 

Celsus 274; 

Chaeronea 160; 

Chalcedon 13; 

Chalcidians 13; 

Chalcidice 13; 

Chalcis 13; 

Chaldaea 65; 

Chariton 252; 

Charlemagne 297; 

Charondas 11; 

Chersonnesus (of Thrace) 13; 
Chénier (André) 302; 

Chilon (of Sparta) 57; 


INDEX 


Chios 5; sculptural school of 70; 
90; 

Chosroes 280; 

Christianity 190; 203; 223; 243; 
273; 274; 275; 278; 280; 281; 
291; 292; 295; 296; 

Chrysippus (of Soli) 224; 225; 

Cicero 136; 229; 

Cimmerians 55; 

Cimon 86; 109; 

Clarus (Oracle of Apollo) 25; 

Claudius Ptolemy 255; 

Cleanthes (of Assus) 224; 225; 
226; 

Clement (of Alexandria) 274; 
2953 . 

Cleon 109; 146; 

Cleophon 109; 

Clisthenes 9; 79; 

Clitarchus 216; 

Clitias 71; 

Cnossus (palace of) 3; 

Colophon 5; 

Commodus 256; 

Constantine 243; 278; 

Constantinople 279; 

Copernicus 255; 

Corax 130; 

Corcyra 13; 

Corinth 13; 62; celebrations of 
93; 150; 165; 

Corinthians 13; 

Corneille 300; 

Council of Nicea 278; 

Crannon 63; 

Crantor 236; 

Crates (of Mallus) 215; 216; 
224; 

Cratinus 109; 

Crete 3; 

Crotona 66; 

Ctesias 174; 175; 176; 

Cyme 45; 

Cynicism 191; 

Cynics 192; 224; 250; 


313 


Cyrenaics 192; 
Cyrus 175; 
Cyzicus 13; 


Dedalus 70; 

Delos 150; 

Delphi 22; Pythian Games 23; 
Oracle of Apollo 25; 30; 
sacerdotal college 58; 93; 
94; 150; 245; 

Demagogs 81; 

Demeter 17; 31; 97; 

Democritus (of Abdera) 128; 
231; 232; 299; 

Demosthenes 55; 164; 168; 169; 
216; 280; 

Descartes 299; 

Didymeum 194; 

Didymus (of Alexandria) 215; 

Dio Chrysostom (of Pruse) 
261; 262; 

Diocletian 259; 

Dio Cassius 248; 

Diodorus (of Sicily) 219; 

Diogenes (of Sinope) 191; 

Dionysia (City) 21; 97; 98; 99; 


100; 
Dionysia (Country) 21; 62; 106; 
Dionysius (of, Halicarnassus) 


215-216; 219; 220; 

Dionysus 22; cult of 30; 68; 98; 
99; 107; 

Dionysus-Zagreus 68; 

Diophantus (of Alexandria) 255; 
256: 

Dipoenus (of Crete) 70; 

Dodona (Oracle of Zeus) 25; 

Domitian 261; 

Dorians 5; 111; 

Douris (of Samos) 216; 

Draco 11; 

Duns Scotus 298; 


Eclecticism 235; 237-238; 
Egypt 65; 121; 143; 164; 188; 


314 
204; 206; 217; 245; 262; 273; 
283; 

Kleatic School (Eleatics) 67; 
183; 

Eleusinia 97; 

Elis 30; 150; 

Empedocles (of Agrigentum) 
123; 126; 128; 183; 

Epaminondas 159; 

Ephesus 5; 

Ephialtes 79; 

Ephorus 174; 175; 176; 248; 

Epictetus 258; 

Epicharmus (of Syracuse) 110; 

Epicureanism 224; 230-234; 235; 
236; 262; 

Epicurus 192; 230-231; 298; 

Eratosthenes (of Cyrene) 215; 
217; 219; 240; 

Erectheum 152; 

Ergotimus 71; 

Erigina (Johannes Scotus) 297; 

Eros 197; 

Euboea 159; 

Euclid 240; 

Eudoxus (of Cnidus) 240; 

Euripides 106; 109; 141-142; 172; 
301; 

Exechias 71; 


Favorinus (of Arles) 247; 
Fénelon 301; 


Galatians 285; 

Galen 240; 256; 

Gassendi 299; 

Gelon (tyrant of Syracuse) 63; 

Gerbert 297; 

Gnomic poets 58; 

Gorgias (of Leontini) 129; 130; 
132; 

Gregory (of Nazianzus) 281; 

Gymnopedia 21; 


INDEX 


Hades 17; 31; 108; 

Hadrian 244; 248; 

Hagia Triada (palace of) 3; 

Harpocration 253; 

Hecateus (of Miletus) 65; 66; 
143; 219; 

Hector 37; 38; 40; 

Hecuba 40; 

Hegesias (of Magnesia) 222; 

Helen (of Troy) 35; 40; 62; 

Heliodorus 252; 

Heliopolis 217; 

Hellespont 13; 

Hephestus 17; 

Hera 17; 18; 

Heraclitus (of Ephesus) 123; 
125; 126; 183; 226; 

Hercules 71; 

Hermes 17; 197; 

Hermippus 221; 

Hermogenes (of Tarsus) 252; 

Herodianus 248; 253; 

Herodotus (of Halicarnassus) 
68; 143-144; 147; 176; 308; 

Heron (of Alexandria) 240; 

Hesiod 17; 33; 44; 45; 46; 47; 
64; 197; 211; 

Hiero (tyrant of Syracuse) 63; 
95; 110; 

Hieronymus (of Cardia) 216; 

Himerius 279; 

Hipparchus (of Nicea) 241; 

Hippocrates (of Cos) 129; 240; 
256; 

Hipponax (of Ephesus) 54; 

Homer 64; 130; 197; 301; 302; 

Horace 95; 

Hyacinthia 21; 

Hyperbolus 109; 

Hyperides 168; 169; 


Tamblichus 252; 277; 279; 
Ictinus 151; 193; 285; 
Iliad 21; 33; 35-41; 50; 114; 130; 


INDEX 


Ionia 22; 56; 58; 65; 
Ionians 5; 111; 123; 299; 
Iseeus 168; 

Isocrates 170; 176; 
Isthmian Games 22; 23; 95; 
Ithaca 41; 


Jesus 275; 

Judaism 209; 260; 274; 
Julian 277; 278; 280; 
Julius Pollux 253; 
Justinian 281; 295; 


King Mausolus (tomb of) 194; 
196; 
Kore (see Persephone) 


La Bruyére 171; 301; 

Lacedemon 61; 62; 

Lugas (Lagidae) 204; 206; 283; 

Lamprias 244; 

Lampsacus 13; 

Lanfranc 297; 

Larissa 63; 

Lasus 22; 

Lebadea (Oracle of Trophonius) 
25; 

Leibnitz 300; 

Lenza 21; 97; 98; 100; 

Leonidas (of Tarentum) 212; 

Lesbos 5; 58; 59; 60; 90; 

Leto 17; 

Leucippus (of Abdera) 
231; 232; 

Leuctra (Battle of) 159; 

Libanius (of Antioch) 279; 

Libya 23; 

Locrians 13; 

Longinus 252; 

Longus 252; 

Lucian (of Samosata) 250; 

Lucretius 232; 

Lyceum 190; 224; 234; 

Lycurgus 11; 169; 


128; 


315 
Lydia 56; 

Lydians 6; 

Lysander 87; 

Lysias 167; 200; 

Lysicrates (monument of) 194; 
Lysippus (of Sicyon) 195; 197; 
198; 199; 


Macedonia 78; 160; 185; 204; 

Manetho 217; 

Marathon 144; 

Marcus Aurelius 256; 259; 

Mausokum (at Halicarnassus) 
194; 196; 

Medea 290; 

Megara 13; 

Megarians 13; 

Megarian School 183; 

Menander 172; 173; 174; 199; 
200; 

Menander (of Laodicea) 252; 

Menelaus (King) 35; 

Menippus (of Gadara) 213; 

Messene 159; 

Metapontum 66; 

Methymna 62; 

Micon 154; 

Miletus 5; 13; 42; 65; 

Mimnermus (of Colophon) 56; 

Minos (King) 3; 

Moderatus 264; 

Molitre 174; 

Montaigne 301; 

Montesquieu 304; 

Mycene 3; 4; 

Myron 153; 

Mysteries 30; 31; 67; 181; 

Mysticism 235; 238-239; 

Mytilene 59; 


Nearchus 219; 

Nemea 22; 23; 93; 95; 

Neo-platonism 203; 230; 265; 
275; 276; 277; 279; 298; 299; 


316 INDEX 
Neo-pythagoreanism 238; 264; Pericles 78; 79; 82; 83; 87; 89; 


Nerva 261; 99; 109; 146; 148-149; 151; 
Nestor 34; 163; 193; 308; 
Nicander (of Colophon) 211; Perinthus 13; 
Nicarchus 244; Peripatetics 190; 237; 
Nicias 146; Persephone 17; 31; 97; 
Nicomachus 264; Perses 45; 
Nicomedia 279; Persians 6; 308; 
Nicopolis (in Epirus) 259; Persian Wars 9; 30; 78; 130; 
Numenius 264; 143; 144; 150; 
Peter Damianus 297; 
Occam 298; Phestus (palace of) 3; 
Odeum 99; Pharos (island of) 284; 
Odyssey 33; 41-44; 114; 130; Phasis 13; 
Olympia 22; 93; 95; 152; Phidias 94; 
Olympus 17; 98; 269; 274; Philemon 172; 199; 
Onomacritus 68; Philetas (of Cos) 212; 
Oracles 24; Philip of Macedon 160; 177; 
Orchomenus 3; Philo (of Alexandria) 260; 261; 
‘Origen 275; 295; Philochorus 216; 
Orpheus 68; Philostratus 247; 264; 
Orphism 67; 68; 181; 238; Philoxenus 99; 
Ovid 210; Phocylides (of Miletus) 58; 
Phormion 165; 
Peonius 153; Phrygia 273; 
Panetius 229; Phylarchus 216; 
Panathenea 21; 22; 97; Phryne 197; 
Pandora 48; Pindar (of Thebes) 95; 99; 138- 
Panhellenic festivals 22; 93; 139; 
Panticapeum 164; Pirzus 109; 120; 164; 
Paris 35; Pisa 22; 

Parmenides (of Elea) 67; 123;  Pisistratus 9; 59; 63; 68; 96; 
124; 125; 126; Pittacus (of Mytilene) 57; 
Parrhasius 154; 199; Plato 117; 123; 125; 135; 171; 
Parthenon 97; 151; 152; 153; 178-185; 190; 216; 224; 227; 

303; 230; 235; 236; 240; 261; 265; 
Pasion 165; 270; 278; 281; 294; 297; 298; 
Pelopidas 159; 299; 300; 

Peloponnesian War 78; 83; 87; Plautus 173; 

159; 177; Pliny (the Elder) 198; 
Peloponnesus 4; 62; 70; 91; 159; Plotinus 265; 266; 267; 268; 269; 
Penelope 41; 43; 270; 275; 278; 297; 299; 
Pergamus 204; 207; 215; 284; Plutarch 221; 244; 245; 248; 249; 

285; 286; 287; 250; 262; 263; 301; 302; 


Periander 62; Poecile 225; 


INDEX 


Polemon 190; 224; 


Polybius 216; 217-218; 219; 294; 
Polyclitus (of Argos) 153; 198; 


Polycrates (of Samos) 59; 
Polygnotus 154; 199; 
Polyphemus 290; 

Pontus 13; 121; 164; 
Porphyrus 276-277; 299; 
Portico 224; 225; 258; 266; 
Poseidon 17; 


Posidippus (of Cassandria) 212; 


Praxiteles 195; 196; 198; 303; 


Priam (King) 35; 36; 37; 40; 


Proclus 281; 

Prodicus (of Ceos) 132; 

Prometheus 48; 

Propertius 210; 212; 

Propontia 13; 43; 

- Propyleum 152; 

Protagoras (of Abdera) 128; 
132; 

Protogenes 198-199; 

Ptolemy 213; 216; 256; 283; 


Ptolemy Philadelphus 209; 212; 


217; 

Pyrrho (of Elis) 235; 
Pythagoras (of Samoa) 66; 67; 
183; 235; 240; 264; 299; 

Pythagoreans 224; 266; 278; 
Pytheas (of Marseilles) 219; 
Pythia 25; 
Pythian Games 23; 95; 
Pytho (God of) 55; 


Racine 301; 

Renaissance 286; 293; 298; 303; 

Rhianus (of Crete) 211; 

Rhodes 287; 

Rome 122; 216; 217; 219; 220; 
242; 245; 256; 259; 293; 294; 

Ronsard 301; 

Roscellinus 297; 

Rousseau 302; 


St. Anselm 297; 


317 


St. Basil 296; 

St. John Chrysostom 281; 296; 

St. Thomas (of Aquinas) 298; 

Salamis 144; 

Samos 59; sculptural school of 
70; 90; 

Sappho (of Eressus) 58; 59; 

Satyr drama 100; 

Satyrus 221; 

Scepticism 235-237; 264-265; 299; 

Scopade 59; 

Scopas (of Paros) 195; 196; 197; 
198; 303; 

Scopelian 247; 

Seyllis (of Crete) 70; 

Seleucia 284; 

Seleucid 204; 206; 

Sextus 265; 

Sicilian Expedition 83; 87; 

Sicily 13; 23; 41; 62; 63; 66; 90; 
121; 143; 163; 164; 

Sicyon 70; 197; 

Simonides (of Amorgos) 54; 95; 
99; 

Simonides (of Ceos) 63; 

Sinope 13; 

Skyllis (of Crete) 70; 

Smyrna 5; 256; 

Socrates 109; 123; 133-138; 142; 
174; 178; 179; 183; 191; 192; 
223; 230; 236; 308; 

Solon 9; 11; 56; 57; 138; 

Sophocles 64; 106; 140-141; 144; 
197; 

Sostratus (of Cnidus) 284; 

Sotades 213; 

Sparta 7-8; 18; 21; 25; 35; 55; 
61; 78; 90; 91; 102; I11; 
146; 159; 177; 302; 

Speusippus 190; 

Stesichorus (of Himera) 62; 

Stilpo 224; 

Stoicism 191; 224-230; 235; 258; 
259; 260; 261; 262; 299; 

Strabo 219; 283; 


318 


Susa 176; 
Syracuse 90; 110; 150; 207; 
Syria 121; 164; 204; 273; 


Tanagra 199; | 

Tarentum 150; 

Telemachus 43; 

Telesterion 98; 152; 

Terence 174; 

Terpander 61; 

Thales (of Miletus) 57; 65; 66; 

Thaletas (of Crete) 61; 

Thebes 30; 159; 160; 

Themistius 279; 

Themistocles 79; 

Themocritus 213; 302; 

Theodorus (of Cyrene) 240; 

Theodosius 279; 

Theognis (of Megara) 57; 138; 

Theon (of Semos) 290; 

Theophrastus 171; 190; 222; 237; 
252; 301; 

Theopompus 174; 175; 176; 177; 

Theron (of Agrigentum) 95; 

Theseus 71; 

Thespiz 197; 

Thespis 22; 100; 

Thessaly 59; 63; 159; 163; 

Thrace 13; 121; 

Thucydides 89; 144-147; 
149; 216; 248; 294; 308; 

Tibullus 210; 

Timeus 216; 217; 218; 

Timon (of Phlius) 213; 235; 

Timotheus 99; 165; 


148; 


INDEX 


Tiryns 3; 

Tisias 130; 

Trajan 261; 

Tralles 287; 
Trojans 35; 36; 38; 
Trophonius 25; 
Troy 35; 40; 
Tyrtzus 55; 


Ulysses 34; 41; 42; 43; 44; 71; 
114; 


Virgil 210; 
Voltaire 302; 


William of Champeaux 297; 
Winged Victory (temple) 152; 


Xenocrates 190; 

Xenophanes (of Colophon) 66; 
67; 124; 179; 

Xenophon 117; 135; 171; 174- 
175; 248; | 

Xenophon (of Ephesus) 252; 


Zaleucus 11; 

Zeno (of Citium) 224; 225; 

Zeno (of Elea) 123; 125; 131; 
191; 

Zenodotus (of Ephesus) 215; 

Zeus 17; 19; Oracle of 25; 48; 
Temple of 93-94; 152; 153; 
285; 

Zeuxis 154; 199; 

































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